Number Twenty Eight
by Sevlow
Summary: As of today, Edward Elric had been missing for four months, two weeks, and five days. Warnings for angst, some gore, and Chimera!Ed. Complete
1. His Name

It was dark and it was cold. The old, mildew-covered brick walls dripped with moisture and blackish, slimy puddles of god knows what covered the cracked floor like booby traps engineered specifically to make a soldier lose his footing in the dim corridors.

As if on queue, one of the enlisted men walking beside Colonel Roy Mustang slipped and nearly fell backwards into a puddle of the moldy, viscous gunk. The colonel grabbed him by the shoulder and steadied him, shooting him a formidable glare that plainly said, "be more careful or I will kill you myself." The soldier ducked his head sheepishly and mumbled some sort of apology, but Roy ignored him; he had more important things to focus on.

He was a little on edge at the moment. Okay, more than a "little" on edge... His heart was hammering in his chest and his mind was racing, agitated by the metallic, prickling feel of alchemy that was so thick in the dank air. Roy wasn't sure if his men could feel it—for none of them were alchemists—but each step that the company took toward its destination made Roy's skin crawl just a little bit more. Something had happened here. Something perverse and unforgivable. The scent of taboo was everywhere and the primal urge to just turn and flee from it was almost overpowering.

Roy suppressed a shudder and continued down the abandoned, badly-lit hallway with his head held high. There was no turning back now. Not when they were so close.

As of today, Edward Elric had been missing for four months, two weeks, and five days. It wasn't exactly unheard of for the kid to disappear for such long periods of time—since he _did_ roam the country on a fairly regular basis and didn't always have access to telephones or mail services with which to check in at headquarters... or, at least, that was his excuse—so Roy wouldn't usually have led search parties into every corner of Amestris over something like this...

But the thing that really worried Mustang was that Alphonse didn't know where Ed was, either.

A little over four months ago, the youngest Elric brother had come in to Roy's office, wringing his metal hands and quietly asking if the colonel or any of his staff had heard from Ed at all over the past few days. Roy had warily told him that no, nobody had heard from him, and the armored child had very nearly dissolved into hysterics. He'd started crying and brokenly explained that he and Ed had had an argument about two weeks previous and that Ed had walked out in a huff and never came back.

"H-he's never been mad at me for this long before... and over something s-so s-stupid!" Al had wailed, leaning down to bury his face against Lieutenant Hawkeye's shoulder, "Something must have happened to him, or he would have at least called by now!"

The colonel had quietly agreed that Ed's absence was very strange, concealing the sharp jolt of worry that had run through him at the sight of Alphonse's despair. The Elric brothers were practically connected at the hip... Ed was a hot-tempered, disrespectful punk, but he would never, NEVER, skip town and not tell Al where he was going. Something was definitely wrong.

After Hawkeye had calmed Alphonse down enough to listen, Roy promised him that he would investigate the matter thoroughly and immediately gathered teams to try and figure out where Ed had gone. Every couple of weeks, the investigation would stumble upon a lead and the colonel would follow it doggedly, but it always ended in a letdown. It seemed that the Fullmetal Alchemist had vanished into thin air.

Discouraged after months of failure, Roy had temporarily called off the search last week as he collected what information he had found on Ed's supposed whereabouts and pored over it again and again, trying to discover something that he might have overlooked. Refusing to pause in the search for his brother, Alphonse was currently traveling south to follow yet another weak lead that would almost certainly turn up as nothing... but Roy supposed that he could understand the boy's need to cling to even the smallest glimmer of hope and follow it through to the end.

Colonel Mustang's perusal of old material had turned up nothing so far, but just when failure seemed like the only outcome, a lead dropped right into his lap. Roy had received an anonymous tip four days ago. Nothing flashy, just a simple letter that read "_I know where the Fullmetal Alchemist is..."_ accompanied by a crudely drawn map that detailed this dilapidated, underground winery that Colonel Mustang and his men were currently stalking through. It was documented that this rotting, run-down place hadn't been used in over twenty years... but once the team stepped inside, it was very apparent that the documents on the property were mistaken.

It had become an alchemy lab of some sort, organized by an anarchist sect of alchemists who were infamous for illegal and unethical transmutations. They followed the mantra that "nothing is taboo if knowledge can be gained from it" and had been a thorn in the military's side for years. They popped up on the radar every now and then, but by the time the military got there the Alchemic Anarchists had already fled, leaving behind the gruesome remnants of their failed experiments.

And now, once again, by the time the military arrived all of the alchemists were gone and—from the looks of things—had been gone for weeks. Mustang gritted his teeth in frustration. There was probably an informant within the military, but no one could even begin to guess who. Well, it didn't matter at the moment. The purpose of this mission was to find Edward Elric... and—Mustang amended somberly as he stopped and looked down at a contorted body that was huddled in one of the makeshift cages lining the dreary hallway—any other potential survivors of this atrocity.

Second Lieutenant Breda was still upstairs with half of Mustang's team, searching for and collecting the victims of these alchemic experiments. So far, three—_no, make that four_, Roy thought as he gazed at the cage—bodies had been found in the lower level by Mustang and his crew and there were certainly more upstairs. One of the bodies had been in pieces, looking as if it has been dissolved by acid. Another body had appeared perfectly healthy... other than the fact that her organs were on the outside of her chest cavity.

Mustang crouched down next to the cage labeled _#23_ and looked at this newest body critically. Well, it wasn't Edward, which was certainly a relief. It appeared to be a young man, though... his smooth, unblemished face drawn back in pain and horror, freezing his countenance into a tortured mask as he died. His body was curled on its side, blood leaking from mouth, nose, and bowels. _Poor kid_. His arms were crossed over his chest protectively, his hands digging like claws into his shoulders...

Wait...

Roy peered closer, his eyes narrowing at the kid's hands. They didn't just look like claws... they _were_ claws.

"Chimera." Roy whispered, his stomach clenching. Now that he was looking closer, the colonel could see twisted animal traits all through the corpse; the kid's lifeless, glazed eyes had slitted pupils and Roy could make out a hint of fangs behind his bloodied, slack lips. The colonel swallowed back his horrified, nauseated anger and got to his feet, turning to one of his men. "Private DeMaine, make a note that this body is here, but don't touch it. The investigations team is going to have a field day with this case..."

"Sir." DeMaine saluted, jotting down some notes in the mission log as Roy swept past him down the hallway.

There were more cages at the end of the corridor. Roy took a breath and headed toward them a little anxiously. If Ed wasn't here, then it meant the disappointment of another failed lead... but if Ed _was_ here... well, Roy didn't really want to think about that.

The first cage that Roy approached was bigger than the rest of them—more like a prison cell than a cage—with the number designations of _#27_ and _#28_ attached to the metal bars. The colonel looked into the darkness within the cage while some of his men examined the other cages stacked against the dead-end of the corridor. Roy could see the body of a dog or, more likely, a chimera sprawled limply in the shadows on the other side of the cell. It had clearly been dead for some time, but from the darkness and the distance Roy could not make out its features enough to tell whether or not it was the boy that he'd been searching for.

Roy reached into his pocket, retrieved his glove and slipped it on. He'd been afraid to wear them in the wet dankness of this building in case they got too damp to create a spark... but his pocket had kept them dry and ready, waiting for him to use them and call upon his flames. Roy snapped his fingers and the padlock on the cell door gave way, dripping molten steel onto the floor where it hissed and cooled in the wetness.

The cell door creaked shrilly as he opened it and stepped inside. He had to duck a little to get under the doorframe, but the cell beyond gave Roy more than enough room to stand upright as he made his way hesitantly to the dog-shaped carcass. He looked down at the thing expressionlessly, trying to hide the fact that his mind was silently begging, _please don't let this be Ed, please don't let this be Ed, please don't let this be..._

Roy swallowed hard and knelt down beside the corpse. It had a collar around its neck and the bright metal tag named it as #27; well, no help there... His dark eyes lowered and roamed the chimera's blood-matted fur, searching desperately for any identifying characteristics that might point to Ed... Then Roy saw and understood. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

The thing was female. It wasn't Fullmetal.

Roy sighed and massaged his temple with one hand. Goddamn it. Another dead-end. He was getting so tired of this. True, there was still the far-off hope that Ed was still alive somewhere... but Roy sincerely doubted it at this point. He had probably been kidnapped off the streets and slaughtered like a pig months ago. His corpse had probably been torn apart and thrown out for vultures to feed on. This was a lost cause. A waste of time.

The colonel sighed again and made to get to his feet, but then paused. A low, rumbling sound caught his ear and he froze, looking back down at the chimera in front of him. Was it growling...? No. No, it was definitely dead. Then what...?

"Sir, over there!"

Roy's head jerked up in response to his soldier's warning cry and he looked around, fingers ready to snap a fireball into being. When his eyes landed on it, Roy sucked in a harsh, steadying gasp. It must have been hiding in the shadows... How _stupid_ of Roy to just saunter into the cell and drop his guard, especially then there had been _two_ numbers on the cage. If the dead chimera in front of him was number twenty-seven... then this must be number twenty-eight coming to say hello.

It was slinking toward him slowly, teeth bared as it issued a deep, threatening growl from the back of its throat. Its paws hit the floor in an uneven limp, the sharp click of its nails on stone resounding in the cell. Like number twenty-seven, it was also a dog... or, it had been at one point. Its fur was tawny in color, mottled with spots of blood and short enough to let Roy know that it was starving; its ribs and pelvis bones jutted out starkly from beneath its skin and its spine was a prominent, almost skeletal ridge. Its coat was accented by longer, golden strands of fur that bedecked its tail and hung lankly in its face, cloaking its eyes in dark shadow. The bright tag on its collar flashed menacingly as it stepped further into the light. Even looking as it did, though... as ragged and transformed as it—no, not "it." HE.—had become... Roy still recognized him almost instantly and his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, _damn_ it..." he breathed sadly, remaining in his motionless crouch as the chimera that had once been Edward Elric stalked closer, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Careful, Sir..." DeMaine cautioned warily, drawing his gun and leveling it at the beast.

"Don't shoot," The colonel ordered softly, never taking his eyes from the transmuted boy, "It's Fullmetal."

One of the men cursed in surprise and the others whispered to one another, aghast. Roy ignored them, all of his attention focused on Edward. He had stopped moving forward and was staring at Roy appraisingly, hackles raised and fangs visible, clearly sending a warning message to the colonel: _STAY. BACK_.

"Fullmetal?" Roy asked him, forcibly keeping his voice low and non-threatening, "Can you understand me?"

The chimera gave no reaction. He just stood there, watching Roy with such inhuman intensity that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Then, as if Roy had said nothing at all, he started forward again, pale ropes of drool dripping from his wicked teeth.

Roy cursed inwardly. Crouched on the floor as he was, he was in a vulnerable position and the growling, angry chimera was getting way too close for comfort. He was less than ten feet away now and moving closer every second. Slowly, so as not to startle Ed or seem aggressive in any way, Roy ventured to straighten up from his crouch.

"Easy... easy, kid..." the colonel soothed, getting his feet under him and cautiously unfolding to stand erect, "I'm not going to hurt you..."

Ed did not look convinced. Unsettled by Roy getting to his feet, the chimera loosed a harsh, booming bark and lurched forward several more paces, jaws snapping and saliva flying. Roy backed away from him a little, nearly tripping over the carcass of the other chimera. This was not good; Ed was between Roy and the door to the cell and he wasn't showing any signs of backing off.

Roy glanced over at the door briefly. All of his nine men had their guns drawn beyond the bars of the cell and two of them were actually stepping in through the doorway as silently as they could manage, attempting to aid their colonel. As of yet, Ed seemed unaware of their stealthy approach; he was too intent on Roy, his body tensed and every muscle ready to leap on his commander and tear him apart.

"Go back, men..." Roy whispered to them, taking another step backward from Ed's advance, "The last thing we want to do is spook him. Jacobi, run upstairs and tell Lieutenant Breda that we've found Fullmetal. Richards, take a few men and go see if you can find tranquilizers or something up in the lab... lets hope those bastards left behind something that we can use..."

The men hesitated for a moment, watching the colonel uncertainly, but then they started backing toward the door again obediently. Roy watched one of them duck through the doorframe, but as the other approached his feet slipped out from under him in a pool of slime and he went down with a strangled yelp.

Startled by the noise and already fixated on his target, Ed lunged for Roy's throat in a burst of speed that gave the colonel no time to jump out of the way. He brought his arm up instinctively as Ed plowed into him, crying out as he felt teeth imbed themselves into the flesh for his forearm. The force of Ed's attack knocked Roy backward off his feet and both of them hit the ground hard. The fall knocked the breath from Roy's lungs and jarred Ed's jaws off of his arm.

"Colonel!" one of the remaining men shouted as Roy rolled away and staggered to his feet again, pressing himself back against the far wall of the cell.

"Don't shoot!" Roy roared again, hearing someone cock a gun, "He doesn't know what he's doing! Just let me take care of this."

Roy clenched his jaw hard and tried to think about what to do next. His arm was lanced with bolts of fiery pain and he could feel blood dripping from his fingertips, but he did not have time to examine the wound at the moment and instead kept his gaze firmly on Fullmetal. The chimera was circling again, looking for an opportunity to strike. Roy watched him grimly, wondering how either of them was going to get out of this standoff without further injury.

Maybe Roy could race to the door and close it before Ed could escape and just keep him in here until they found tranquilizers or something else to calm him down. Or maybe they could incapacitate him... shoot him in the leg perhaps... wounding him just enough to overpower and capture him. Or maybe...

Before Roy could finish his next thought, Ed attacked again. This time, Roy was able to dodge him and leapt aside. The colonel spun and grabbed the side of Edward's head, snatching a fistful of the long golden fur above his brow and forcing his face to the ground. Ed snarled and struggled, but Roy climbed on top of him and immobilized him, pinning him to the cold ground with all of his strength.

Ed writhed and tossed his head, howling as he tried to bite Roy again.

"HEY!" Roy bellowed down at him, "Knock it off, Ed!"

Roy hadn't really expected any reaction from him. It was clear that the kid was more dog than human now and he didn't understand what Roy was saying, but the colonel was in pain, sick at heart, and losing patience rapidly. He just wanted to shout at the kid... he wanted to scream at him, to demand why—WHY—he had allowed this terrible thing to happen to him. Stupid kid. _Goddamn stupid fucking kid!_

In spite of Roy's expectations, though—or the lack thereof—the chimera stopped struggling at the colonel's sharp words. He fell completely still, panting hard as his amber colored eye rolled over and looked at Roy, widening slightly.

"_...Ed?_" the chimera asked, his voice deep and warped.

Roy froze, his breath catching in his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

"_Ed?_" Fullmetal asked again, a sudden kind of desperation straining the word. Roy looked down at him uncertainly. It seemed as if Edward were waiting for Roy to say something, but the man had no idea what he wanted him to say and so he stayed silent. Hesitantly, Roy loosened his hold on Edward's head. When the chimera made no move to attack him again, Roy moved off of him and got to his feet slowly.

The chimera got to his own feet unsteadily, looking dazed. He hunched his shoulders and tucked his tail between his legs, whining softly as he looked up at Roy.

"_ED?_" he repeated, louder, his voice breaking. "_Name Ed? Ed? Twenty-eight? Ed...?_"

Roy's heart constricted as he finally understood what the kid wanted. He wanted confirmation of his own name. The dog-tag hanging from his collar shone in the dim light of this cruel dungeon, _#28_ engraved into the metal... and no doubt into Ed's mind as well. Roy swallowed hard and wondered how many months it had been since someone had called the poor creature before him by his actual name.

"Yes..." Roy told him, speaking past the sudden lump in his throat, "yes, your name is Ed."

The chimera exhaled sharply and then nodded, a shockingly human gesture to be coming from something that looked so much like an animal. Slowly, he turned away from Roy and plodded to the opposite side of the cell, his head held low as he whispered his name to himself again and again, "_Ed... Ed... Ed... Ed..._"

The men outside the cell were whispering to one another, shifting uncomfortably like a herd of uneasy deer as they waited for the colonel to give some sort of order. Roy held up a hand to tell them to just stay where they were and cautiously crouched down again, waiting to see what Ed was going to do.

Ed stopped when he reached the bars on the far side of the cell and turned to face Roy again. "_Ed... Ed..._" he rasped hollowly, his head swaying from side to side and his voice rising in pitch as he spoke, "_Ed...! Ed! Ed! ED! ED! ED!_"

And then he bolted.

He galloped toward Roy at full speed, screaming his own name at the top of his lungs like a war cry. Roy braced himself for an attack, but Ed ran past the colonel and crashed hard into the cell bars behind him. Ed collapsed to the floor and Roy rushed over to him, but the kid dragged himself to his feet again and backed up a few paces. Ed shrieked and threw himself against the bars again, slamming his head into the hard metal over and over. Blood appeared on his fur, splattering his brow and muzzle with bright drops of red as he bashed his skull repeatedly against the bars.

He was trying to kill himself, Roy realized in horror.

"Ed, stop!" he cried, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back. Ed strained against him with a choked scream and the collar snapped, allowing him to barrel forward into the bars once more.

The colonel lunged for him again, wrapping both arms around his doglike neck and shoulders and dragging him back. Ed howled and tried to fight him off, but he was wounded and exhausted and on the verge of starvation and he could not escape from Roy's hold on him.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Roy ordered him, tightening his grip, "Come on, Edward! It's okay. Shh... you're okay... just let me take you home, alright?"

Ed shuddered at Roy's words and stopped straining against him, listening as he panted and whimpered.

"I'm going to take you home," the colonel promised him quietly, "but I need you to calm down, okay? ...Do you understand?"

Blood was dripping from Edward's mouth and there was a bad cut on his forehead partially hidden by his blonde bangs, sending tiny rivers of crimson down the sides of his elongated face. He half-turned his head and looked at Roy, their faces inches apart. The chimera's eyes were huge and terrified, drilling into Roy with a confused, frantic kind of pain... but they were not Ed's eyes. They were the eyes of a frightened dog, hazed with animal stupidity.

"_Do you understand?_" Roy asked again, desperately hoping that Ed's witty, exceptional mind hadn't been completely overtaken by the beast he'd been combined with. No. No, he was still there on some level... he knew his name and it was clear by his hysteria that he comprehended at least a little bit of the evil that had been done to him... but what about beyond that? _Did _he understand?

But then, slowly, Ed nodded. Roy clenched his jaw hard against the tightness in his throat and loosened his hold on Ed, a brutal, limb-weakening kind of relief taking hold of him.

"Good." Roy praised him gently, "That's very good."

"._..Good?_" Ed echoed, the word leaving him as a soft, whimpering sob.

Roy swallowed hard again and it was several beats before he trusted himself to speak, but then he rasped, "Yes, that's right... Come on." and got to his feet, beckoning for Ed to follow him. Ed hesitated for a moment, trembling and whimpering quietly as he sat on the floor of his cell. "Come on, Ed..." Roy coaxed again, stepping outside of the cell. The chimera gave a sharp, howling whine and hauled himself to his feet, limping after his commander with his head bowed, mumbling to himself,

"_Ed... Ed... Ed... Ed... Ed..._"


	2. The Kindest Thing

Major Alex Louis Armstrong and Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes both stood up from their chairs and raised their hands in customary salute as Colonel Mustang entered the small conference room.

"At ease, gentlemen." the colonel said immediately, dragging out a chair from the table and falling back into it gracelessly, "I am very much not in the mood for formalities."

"As you wish, Roy." Armstrong nodded as he and Maes lowered themselves back into their own chairs.

"I apologize for my tardiness; the nurse who was stitching me up was unreasonably slow." Roy grouched, gesturing at his arm vaguely. The two majors couldn't actually see the wound because of the long sleeves of the colonel's military jacket, but when Lieutenant Breda came in to report earlier that morning he had mentioned that the bite wound Roy had sustained was pretty nasty.

Maes looked over at his superior and longtime friend critically, taking in his appearance. Roy looked exhausted and harassed, his brow set in a vague, constant furrow that made Maes wonder if he had a headache... he knew better than to ask, though. Roy was in a bad mood and had been since last night when he and Second Lieutenant Breda had finally arrived back in Central after rescuing Fullmetal—and his trip to the hospital this morning to doctor his wounds had clearly done nothing to ease his ill temper.

Roy had called Maes' investigations team yesterday afternoon, reporting on what terrible things had been found in that converted lab. The whole operation had been kept very classified and even now Maes and Major Armstrong were two of the very few people outside of the rescue party who knew exactly what had transpired there. Roy had always been very good at keeping himself somber and professional in the midst of a crisis, but even over the phone lines Maes could practically feel his concealed distress as he spoke about what had been done to Edward Elric. Maes wasn't very well-read on chimeras, but Roy's dismay told him all that he needed to know.

If Roy Mustang is upset about something, then _everyone_ should be upset about it.

"Has anyone been able to track down Alphonse yet?" Roy asked, popping open the briefcase he'd brought in with him and pulling out a haphazard stack of files.

"Not yet, sir." Armstrong said sadly, his deep, booming voice reverberating in the small room.

Roy sighed unhappily, massaging his temple with one hand, "He needs to know what's going on. He needs to know what's happened to his brother."

"We're still looking even now." Armstrong agreed apologetically, "We think that he hit another dead end in his own searching for Edward and is most likely on his way back here now. He may just show up back in Central before we can find him."

"As long as he gets here eventually, I suppose it doesn't really matter..." Roy conceded, then turned his attentions to Maes. "Have you sent your men out to the site?"

"Yeah. Early this morning." Maes replied, "I'll probably head out myself tomorrow. My men are already reporting some pretty crazy shit there, Roy... Some of them are getting really spooked."

Roy smirked eerily. "They are wise to be frightened. Unspeakable things happened there, Maes. You can practically taste it on the air. Alchemy was never meant to be used like this..." he trailed off, shaking his head. Maes felt Armstrong give a tiny, barely suppressed shudder beside him.

"...How's Ed doing?" Maes ventured to ask quietly after a moment. Maes was very fond of the kid—of him and Al both—and had been horrified to hear that he'd been so badly abused. Roy gave another steadying sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before replying.

"He's still at the... _vet_." he said after a moment, the last word leaving his lips as a disgusted sneer. Maes knew that Roy had wanted to take Ed to a real hospital, but Lieutenant Breda had eventually convinced him that taking the kid to a veterinarian would be a better course of action. Maes hadn't seen Ed for himself yet, but from the way Breda spoke it was clear that he could no longer pass for human and his dog physiology was much better suited for the practices of an animal clinician. "I actually have to go pick him up in a few minutes, so I'll keep this meeting brief."

"What are we going to do with him then?" Armstrong asked softly.

Roy shrugged, "I'll take him home with me, I guess. I don't know what else I _can_ do. I don't feel comfortable taking him back to his dorm and just leaving him by himself until Al gets here... he's in pretty bad shape."

The colonel stared down at his hands distantly for a moment, lost in dark thought. Maes' heart clenched with pity as he wondered what Roy's definition of "pretty bad" was.

"No... I mean in the long run." Armstrong amended, his voice a little disturbed, "What are we going to do with him? Just leave him as he is...? Do we even have any other option?"

Roy inclined his head a little as he looked at his fellow alchemist. "That is precisely why I called this meeting, Alex" he said quietly, "We do have a couple of options... Ideally, I want to try and split him from the dog."

"...Do you know how?"

Roy sighed and leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing at his temples again, "No."

No one spoke for several beats, but then Mustang cleared his throat and continued, "But we can't just leave him like this, Alex. _I will not_ just leave him as he is. You are one of the few alchemists that I would trust with something like this, so any insight that you may have on how to fix him... anything at all..."

Armstrong looked at Roy sadly and his massive shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry, Roy. I don't know any more about human transmutation than you do... probably a great deal less, in fact."

Roy deflated a little. "I figured... just a hopeful thought, I suppose." The man fell silent and then chuckled bitterly, "You know, I can only think of two people in the world who can help him now: Shou Tucker and Ed himself... and neither of them are exactly available for consultation." He gave another little laugh and shook his head, darkly amused by the irony.

God, he looked so tired.

"...What are our other options?" Maes asked, "You said that we had more than one."

The sick smile playing on Roy's lips died and for a moment he didn't say anything. He just looked back and forth between the majors as if silently deciding whether or not to tell them the options he had in mind. Finally he straightened, rolling his shoulders back and taking on a very professional air that immediately discouraged any sort of argument against what he was about to say. Maes' stomach knotted; this was not going to be good.

"As an alchemist and as a human being," the colonel began, "I cannot allow Fullmetal to suffer staying as he is for the rest of his life. If I can't reverse what's been done to him, I am going to euthanize him."

Maes stared at him. "You can't be serious..." he breathed.

"I have given it a lot of thought and it's the kindest thing that can be done for him if all else fails." Roy maintained calmly, although he didn't quite seem to be able to meet Maes' eyes as he spoke.

"You call that _kind_?" Maes hissed angrily, "You call killing a child _kind_?"

"This is not open for discussion. It is entirely my decision."

"_Your_ decision?" Maes said disbelievingly, as Armstrong shifted uncomfortably and remained silent, "What about what Al wants? Shouldn't he have a say in this? I mean, my god, Ed is his only family, Roy! Aren't you even going to talk to him about it?"

"No. I'm not." Roy said flatly. "I already know that he would not support my decision to euthanize Edward, so there is no point in debating it with him."

"But—"

"If he has a problem with it, then he can take it up with the Fuhrer. This matter falls under the jurisdiction of the State Alchemists and as the highest-ranking member, it is left to my judgment."

In a cold, very businesslike manner, Roy slid a document across the table toward Major Armstrong.

"I do, however, need the consent of another State Alchemist if I have to do this." he said, giving Armstrong a significant look as he pulled out a pen and offered it to him. "The Fuhrer wants documented proof that there really is no other choice for Edward if we cannot fix him, so if you agree with me, Alex, I need your signature."

Maes made a scoffing, incredulous sound and looked at Armstrong. The Strong-Arm Alchemist would never agree to this... he was too tender hearted. There was no way in hell that he would ever allow for Roy to have this kind of power over another human being. Roy was wasting his time even asking...

Armstrong stared at the black pen that the colonel was offering to him, gloomy thoughts stirring like storm clouds behind his blue-grey eyes.

"If you have an alternative, I am more than willing to consider it." Roy rasped, "If you have any thoughts... any ideas at all, no matter how far-fetched... please share them with me."

The big man was silent for a long time, sitting in deep, motionless thought. But then he closed his eyes for a moment and took the offered pen. He set it to the paper and signed it without a word.

Maes sat back in his chair in horrified shock as he watched Armstrong flourish out his name on that terrible document. He must have seen the reproach on Maes' face, for he flinched a little before pushing the papers back toward his superior and making his expression as hard as stone.

"...Thank you, Alex." Roy said sincerely, "You can go, now."

Armstrong nodded slowly and all three men got to their feet in a parting salute. Armstrong then turned on heel and exited the room, but not before Maes could see the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

When the door to the conference room closed, Roy turned back to Maes, "Now, about the investigation, I need—"

"Are you out of your _mind_?"

Roy stopped and looked up at his friend, his face cold and blank. "I don't expect you to understand, Maes..."

"Then explain it to me!"

The colonel gave a harsh sigh and ran his hand through his hair, but said nothing. Maes growled and grabbed his friend roughly, forcing him to meet his eyes. Roy looked up at him, a sudden anger contorting his face.

"Look, it's not like I want this!" Roy exploded, pushing Maes off of him, "I'm going to do everything in my power to avoid this outcome, but if there is nothing I can do then I don't have a choice, Maes!" But then Roy shook his head, looking defeated, "Do you think this was an easy decision for me to make? Do you really think me that much of a monster? ...I really need your support on this, my friend."

Maes clenched his jaw and looked away, not wanting to see the sickened guilt in his best friend's eyes, not wanting to believe that killing Edward really was mercy rather than sin.

"Besides," Roy continued seriously, "this is only as a last resort if I can't change him back. This is why I need the help of your investigations team, so please just hear me out..."

Maes took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and closing his eyes briefly. Finally he nodded and lowered himself back into his chair, leaning his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers diplomatically.

"Alright, Roy. I'm listening."

Roy seated himself quietly and handed Maes the stack of files that he'd taken from his briefcase when he first entered the conference room.

"Good. I need you and your team to gather some information for me. I've detailed everything I need in these files, but just about anything you find could be of use to me... I'm fumbling in the dark here, Maes. I have no experience with this level of human transmutation, so I need you to bring me any logbooks or files that the Anarchists might have left behind regarding their experiments... especially anything regarding experiment number twenty-eight."

"Number twenty-eight?" Maes asked, opening the file that Roy had handed to him, "Is that Ed?"

Roy nodded, "Try to dig up information on number twenty-seven as well; I think they might have been part of the same experiment since they were... _caged_ together."

"...I'll do what I can."

"That's all I needed to hear, Maes. And I want you to know that I'll be doing the same." Roy told him with a sad kind of sincerity, "I've collected all of the manuscripts that were confiscated from Tucker's home after his arrest. It's going to take days—maybe weeks—for me to get through all the information, but I'm confident that there will be at least _something_ of use..."

"Right."

Roy looked at Maes glumly for a moment, then closed his briefcase and got to his feet again. "...Well, that's all I needed to discuss with you."

"We're not done talking about what you're going do to Ed if you can't fix him..." Maes warned, his voice low. Roy flinched.

"Let it go, Maes. It's out of your hands. Let's just hope that it doesn't come to that, okay? ...Are you really so doubtful of me that you can only think of what will happen if I fail?"

Maes exhaled slowly and collected the files that Roy had given him, hugging them to his chest. "You're right." he said softly, standing up, "I apologize. I know that this can't be easy for you."

Roy shrugged a little awkwardly, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm. Maes could tell that his exhaustion was wearing him thin; he probably hadn't slept at all since before Ed's rescue... and the pain of his bite wound and the worry plaguing his mind certainly just made things worse.

"You should go home and get some sleep, Roy." Maes said, gripping his shoulder kindly.

"Can't." he yawned, "I have to go get Edward."

"Then let me come with you. I want to see how bad off he is for myself... and then I can keep an eye on him while you get some rest."

Roy looked up at him blearily, then he bowed his head a little, "...Thank you."

Maes smiled at him wanly and the two of them exited the conference room.


	3. Evil

Well... at least he looked a _little_ better.

Roy looked down at Edward uncertainly, his eyes roaming over the shaved patches of his fur where wounds had been stitched and needles had been inserted to pump fluids and antibiotics into his suffering body. He was lying almost completely still on the animal physician's cold metal table, his eyes glazed and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Maes was standing on the other side of the room, trying hard not to look as horrified as he actually was.

"He was being very uncooperative, so we had to sedate him," the young veterinarian in the room told Roy a little too cheerfully, "but he'll come around soon."

"I see." Roy said hollowly, "How is he?"

"Well, the poor thing is starved half to death..." she said, her lips pursed in a little pout as she stroked the side of Ed's neck lovingly, "And he's certainly been abused for a while. Where did you say you found him?"

"He was my uncle's dog," Roy lied easily, feeding her the story he had worked out yesterday, "I was visiting and saw how poorly he was treated so I took him. I think my uncle was glad to see him go."

"Some people have no heart..." she sighed, scratching behind Edward's ear. The chimera closed his hazy eyes briefly, but gave no other response. "But he should be fine in the long run. His only real injuries were the cuts on his head and some older tearing along his flank; he probably got into a fight with another dog. We just need to keep his stitches clean and put some meat on his bones and he'll be running around and chasing cats again in no time!"

Roy's stomach tightened sickly. "I'm sure he will be."

"He's such a good boy. Yes he is..." she went on, crooning down at Edward in a way that made Roy feel like hitting her. She shouldn't talk to Fullmetal like that, as if he's an imbecile. The boy was certainly more intelligent than she was. The stupid bitch.

Roy clenched his jaw and reined himself in, trying to let go of his sudden anger. She didn't know any better. She thought he was a dog... and Roy could hardly blame her for that. Roy was just tired and frustrated and deeply, deeply heartsick.

"What kind of dog did you say he was?" she asked curiously, pulling back Edward's lip to check the color of his gums. "Hm... still too pale..." she mumbled to herself.

"He's... a mix of things." Roy said, his own lips pulling back in a dark, sardonic grin. Behind him, Maes gave a small, unamused cough.

The vet raised her eyebrow, not getting the joke.

"Can... can we take him home now?" Maes asked quietly after a moment, finally daring to take a step forward so that he could place a hand on Ed's side. Roy felt bad for the man, but he _had_ warned him on the car ride here about how much Ed had changed and how much he'd been neglected. Still, it really was hard to look at the way Ed's spine jutted out from beneath his skin and the way his large, vacant eyes recalled almost nothing of the child he had once been. Roy certainly couldn't blame the man for being shaken.

"Actually, I'd like to keep him a little longer..." the vet said, "at least until the sedative wears off."

"We'll take him now." Roy informed her quietly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She pursed her lips again but then shrugged and grabbed a paper bag from the counter. The bag contained several bottles of pills and the vet explained to Roy what time of day to administer each one. He listened to her closely, making mental notes as she spoke. When she finished her listing, Maes took the bag and Roy carefully lifted Ed from the table, thanking her politely. Ed voiced a soft little whine but other than that, he didn't react much to being lifted. God, he was so _light_... he felt like a half-empty sack of bones covered in warm skin. Roy's stomach turned again, but he cleared his throat and ignored his internalized horror. He could not allow himself to get discouraged before he'd even begun. He could save Ed. He could fix this. He could make everything better.

He COULD.

Roy and Maes moved back out into the parking lot and Maes opened the door so that Roy could lay his burden on the awaiting seat.

"So... are we just going to take him back to your house, then?" Maes asked quietly when Roy closed the door. He sounded as if he was trying not to cry. Roy looked up at him sadly and nodded, moving to get into the passenger's seat wordlessly.

The drive back to Roy's house was mostly silent, punctuated only by gentle, sad whimpers coming from the back seat as Edward started to rouse himself from the drugs in his system. Every time he made a sound, Maes' hand's tightened on the steering wheel and he glanced at him furtively through the rearview mirror.

As they neared his street, Roy looked back and saw that Ed was trying to haul himself upright onto his wobbly legs, his heavy head swaying intoxicatedly.

"No. Stay down." Roy ordered him softly, turning in his seat to face him. Ed looked up at him stupidly for a few beats, then lowered himself back down on the seat. "Very good, Ed."

"_Ver... very good._" Ed repeated dazedly, eyeing Roy.

"Yes, that's right. Do you remember me?" Roy asked.

"..._Yes_."

"Excellent. Do you know my name?"

Edward paused, unsure. Maes was watching him through the rearview mirror, holding his breath as he waited for the kid to respond. But then Ed sagged and lowered his head down onto the seat, resting his chin on his paws.

"_Name... Ed_." he mumbled, knowing that it wasn't the right answer but feeling the need to give some kind of reply. "_Ed... Ed, Ed_."

Maes swallowed hard and returned his eyes to the road, looking ill. Roy could see that the man was beginning to understand the true consequences of Ed's transformation... and to see the hope in him start to flag was almost as gut-wrenching as hearing Ed's attempts at speech.

"It's okay, Edward. We can try again later." Roy assured him, turning back around in his seat and closing his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to fight off the headache that had been pulsing at his brow since yesterday.

At least Ed didn't seem any worse off than before. Roy fully believed that Ed knew who he was, but just could not remember his name. Since finding him yesterday, Roy had been constantly asking him questions, trying to ascertain how severely his mind had been handicapped. Asking about his name seemed a simple enough question to focus on, and so Roy had repeated that same question to Ed many times since yesterday. So far, he hadn't been able to come up with the answer. Fullmetal didn't seem to be able to recall any names other than "Ed" unless reminded, although once a person's name was said he would nod with recognition.

Ed's brain had become very limited in thought-process. He could answer simple yes/no questions, but very little else. Roy had asked him to add the numbers two and four and he hadn't been able to do it. He hadn't even understood what Roy wanted from him and so didn't say anything at all. That, more than anything, told Roy that the Ed he knew was gone... or at least trapped behind a thick wall of animal thoughts that left no room for anything else. Hoping that it might help him remember himself a little, Roy had tried to talk to him about Alphonse, but that had only made him whimper desperately and pace around in agitation, muttering, "_Want Al, want Al, want Al... Al, Al, Ed, Al..._" so Roy didn't bring it up again.

Maes pulled to a stop in front of Roy's house and the men got out. Roy opened the door to the back seat and Maes stooped to collect Ed in his arms, but the chimera growled a warning at him and the major drew back quickly.

"Let me." Roy said to him, bending down in front of the door, "Come on, Ed."

Ed hesitated, but then dragged himself over to Roy and allowed himself to be lifted out of the car.

"...Does he not know who I am?" Maes asked in dismay, shutting the car door.

"No, I'm sure he does," Roy hastened to assure him as they moved toward the front door of his house, "He said that he knew Breda, but still wouldn't let the man touch him. It's nothing against you. He's just taken a liking to me... probably because I'm the one who found him."

"He _likes_ you?" Maes asked, a tiny, sad smile brushing his lips, "Wow. Further proof that there really is something wrong with him, huh...?"

"Tell me about it." Roy replied, not quite managing a laugh.

Ed craned his head to look up at Roy quizzically and gave his tail a vague wag.

Maes unlocked the front door with his own set of keys and the three of them went inside. Roy flipped on the lights with his elbow and carried Edward over to the couch, setting him down on the blue-grey cushions gently.

"Stay here, okay?" Roy said, kneeling beside the couch, "Try to go back to sleep."

Ed just stared at Roy groggily for a moment, but then he curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes obediently with a tired sigh. Roy raised his hand to pet him, but then he resisted; Ed was not a dog, no matter how much he looked like one and he should not be treated as such... Rot just had to keep reminding himself. He drew his hand back and dropped it to his side, clenching his fist as he got to his feet.

Maes was still looking down at Ed silently, his face tight with grief. Roy sighed and took his friend's arm, pulling him into the kitchen where they could talk away from Edward... not that he'd be able to understand most of what they said anyway...

"Do you see now, Maes?" Roy asked quietly, "Do you understand why I can't just leave him like this, even if it means killing him?"

"I... but..." Maes faltered, "...But he doesn't seem _that_ bad off... Al would be able to take care of him..."

"Maes..."

"It's just like he's a little disabled, now..." the man continued, upset but keeping his voice low, "You can't kill just him for that! As long as he's happy, what would it matter if he stayed this way?"

Roy seated himself at the kitchen table and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. "It's not just that, though." he began after a moment, "If the only deciding factor was his lack of intelligence, then I would let him stay this way if I couldn't make him right again. But he's... he's in a lot of pain, Maes. For a chimera, it hurts just to be alive. You remember Tucker's talking chimera, don't you?"

"...Yes." came Maes' grudging reply. Roy opened his eyes and looked at him for a few beats, giving the man time to recall that poor beast, to replay her final words in his head: "_I want to die._"

"Ed's body has been twisted and transformed in ways that living things were never meant to be. His muscles and bones have been warped and contorted... can you even comprehend what that must feel like?"

"He seems okay right now..." Maes argued weakly.

"Only because he's high on tranquilizers." Roy said, waving a hand dismissively, "Do you really think that he'd be able to live any kind of life like that?"

"But... but maybe he'd be willing to tolerate the pain... automail hurts a lot and he's dealt with that for years..."

"He's _not_ willing to tolerate it, though." Roy said quietly.

"How the hell do you know what he is or is not willing to do?"

Roy worked his jaw. "He tried to kill himself," he rasped after a long pause. He felt like it was an invasion of Ed's privacy to discuss this with Maes, but Roy was desperate for the man to understand why Ed might have to be terminated. "He would have bashed his brains out if I hadn't stopped him... that's why he has those cuts on his head."

Maes sank heavily into the chair across from Roy and rubbed his face.

"...Maybe he was just overwhelmed..." Maes tried, but Roy could see that his stoic optimism was slowly being beaten down by Roy's words, "Maybe it was an accident."

"He was overwhelmed, yes... but it was no accident." Roy exhaled and crossed his arms on the table, hunching forward a little, "He might not fully understand what has happened to him... but he knows that it hurts and he knows that it's... _evil_ and that was enough to make him want to die."

"Evil" was the only word that Roy could think of to describe what had been done to Ed. It was like there was a dark halo surrounding the chimera that could be felt, but not seen. It was the chill that Roy had felt the entire time that he was down in the underground part of the lab... it was perverse and it was unforgivable and it clung to Edward's tormented body like a sickness. Maybe it was just because he was an alchemist that Roy could feel it so strongly, but he thought that some of his men could feel it, too. It was a bone-deep kind of... _wrongness_ that tainted the air and turned the stomach, making one's instincts scream DANGER.

Years ago, when Tucker had brought his talking chimera into the council room to have his State certification renewed, just about every alchemist in there had started squirming uncomfortably; and that was way before anyone knew that the madman had used his wife to create the beast. That had been Roy's first encounter with a chimera and the vague horror that the poor thing instilled in him was enough to make him decide then and there to never delve into such arts. The feeling in that room then was sickening... like fear and sadness mixed with vertigo... but the dark sensations radiating from Ed were ten times more disturbing.

And the worst part was that Roy was almost positive that Ed could feel it as well. He, too, was an alchemist after all... at least, he used to be. What must that be like to feel this horrifying sin—this vile, repulsive, unspeakable darkness—to feel it and _know_ it to be some kind of nameless evil and never be able to escape from it... because it lived _within_ you? Roy gave a little shudder at the thought and went on in a dull hush:

"You probably will never fully understand this, Maes, because you've never dabbled in alchemy, but if I were in Ed's position, I wouldn't want to live, either... and every alchemist I know would probably say the same." Roy paused for a minute and pulled his arms closer to his chest, hugging himself, "I can't even fully describe to you how frightening it is to feel the waves of taboo radiating from Edward's changed body... it's like a nightmare. Ed has become his own nightmare, and I would not wish that on my greatest enemy."

Maes swallowed hard and stared down at the table silently.

"And this is why I can't leave him like this." Roy whispered, "Do you realize how cruel it would be to do that to him? And you just know that Alphonse would never be able to let him go... that's why I don't want him knowing about this."

"Do... do you think that you can really bring him back?" Maes rasped finally, his strained voice echoing slightly in the small kitchen.

"I don't know." Roy replied honestly, "I have a lot of research to do before I can say for sure, but I _think_ I can."

"But why can't Al help with that? Why do we have to keep him in the dark?" Maes demanded softly. "Can't he be involved?"

Roy blinked. "Of course he can be involved, but do you know where he is? I certainly don't."

"But—"

"I think you misunderstand me, Maes." Roy interrupted, "I'm not opposed to getting Al's help on this. I would be _overjoyed_ to have his help. He and Ed both have much more experience on this than I do and—though he lacks some of Ed's skill and ingenuity—he is still talented and has knowledge that I don't possess."

"But you said—"

"Unfortunately, I know for a fact that he and Ed know very little about chimeras. After the incident with the Tucker girl, Alphonse told me that Ed wanted to try and split her from the dog, but neither of them knew how. But I'm not discounting Al entirely... and when we finally track him down, I intend for him to aid me as much as possible. But if we can't change Ed back to the way he was, I just don't want him to be around for what I might have to do. That's all I'm saying..."

Roy trailed off, took a breath, and let it out again slowly. There. He'd said everything that he'd needed to say. If Maes still didn't agree with him, then he never would and the colonel would have to continue this grim assignment without his support. Even if Maes hated him for this...even if it meant losing the deepest friendship that he had ever known... Roy knew in his heart that putting Edward to sleep was the only human thing that he could do if all else failed.

Maes ran a hand through his hair, the pale light coming in from the front room glinting off his glasses and obscuring his eyes as he lowered his head in defeat.

"This is just... so unfair." he muttered, his voice thick.

"You're right: it's not fair..." Roy agreed quietly, "but do you understand where I'm coming from, now?'

Maes nodded and furtively wiped his eyes.

"But have a little faith, Maes." Roy said after a moment, trying to muster an encouraging smile, "I _am _a very skilled alchemist, you know. One of the best. Just because I've never done this before doesn't mean that I _can't_ do it. I just need some time... and some luck."

"...And some modesty." Maes added, the faintest, saddest smirk that Roy had ever seen quirking the corner of his mouth.

"Modesty has never gotten me anywhere, Maes." Roy replied with a sniff and then yawned inelegantly, "Sleep, on the other hand, would do wonders for me."

"Good idea..." Maes nodded, "I can hang out with Ed for a bit while you're sleeping."

"No, go on home. I need you to head out to the lab early; I want that information as quickly as possible. Besides, the kid looks pretty drugged; he'll probably sleep through till morning. I don't think he'll need supervision tonight."

Maes leaned back in his chair and looked over his shoulder into the living room. From this angle Roy could just barely see the tawny mound of Edward's canine back, rising and falling with respiration. He shifted slightly and gave a tiny, inhuman moan in his sleep.

"...Right." Maes said softly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roy's eyes snapped open and the broken fragments of his dream dissolved into vague pictures that tucked themselves snugly into the far-off reaches of his mind where all night visions go to be forgotten. The sky outside the window was dark and the pocket watch on the nightstand read a bleak _3:16_ in the morning.

Ugh.

He closed his eyes and rolled over onto his side, wondering vaguely about what had awoken him. Maybe a sound from outside. Sometimes the squirrels in the oak tree beside the house decided that the early hours of the morning were the perfect time to bicker and scratch around on the roof. Roy sighed. He couldn't wait for winter when the damn things would hibernate and give him some peace for a month or two. He held his breath for a moment and listened, trying to hear them.

The sound that finally reached his ears, though, was decidedly not the sound of bristle-tailed rodents playing in the eaves. It was a soft, plaintive whimper that sent a shiver down Roy's spine. He opened his eyes once more to the dimness of the room and nearly fell out of bed as he caught sight of a pair of yellow eyes hovering beyond the edge of his mattress, watching him intently. Heart hammering and still half-asleep, it took him a whole three seconds to register what manner of creature had wandered into his bedroom at such an hour.

"Ed?" Roy queried groggily, pushing himself up onto one elbow so that he could look down on the chimera over the side of the bed, "Go back to sleep, kid."

Ed whined again and waved his tail slowly.

"What?" Roy yawned as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes lazily, "What's wrong? ...Are you cold?"

Ed gave no verbal reply but stood up on his hind legs, his front paws scrambling for purchase as he tried to pull himself up onto the bed. Roy watched him struggle for a few moments, then sighed. He threw off his nice, warm covers and got out of bed, then stumbled over the chimera and helped him up. Ed responded with something that was almost—but not quite—"Thank you!" and Roy gave a grunt of reply, collapsing back onto the bed and burrowing down into his still-warm blankets. Ed staggered over to him unsteadily on the springy mattress and settled himself down with a deep, exhausted sigh. He curled into a ball and buried his nose against Roy's side contentedly, closing his eyes.

Roy grimaced a little, more than half-tempted to push him away. It had been hard enough to get to sleep with the chimera's dark, ominous presence in his home, but lying so close to him now made Roy's skin crawl. Still, after all that the kid had been through over the past few months, he deserved a little comfort now and the colonel couldn't bring himself to move him. Instead he threw a corner of the blanket over Ed's curled form, closed his eyes, and tried to pretend that the boy next to him was not a gut-wrenching abomination... he was just a lonely, frightened child who wanted nothing more than the warmth of human contact.

...Roy never did get back to sleep that night.


	4. Volatile

Most of the next morning was spent by Roy and Ed trying to feel each other out.

Well, really, Roy did most of the social exploration since Ed was content to just lie on the couch in a haze of medication—medication that Roy had needed to forcefully shove down his throat... the experience had not been pleasant for either of them—as Roy tried to figure out what to do with him. When Roy had decided that he was going to take Ed into his home, he had originally intended to treat the transformed boy as he normally would have—with short jokes, sarcasm, et cetera—but Ed was certainly making it difficult.

He wasn't acting like himself. That was hardly surprising, given the circumstances, but Roy hadn't really been prepared for this chimera's complete _lack_ of "Edward." Roy had figured that once Ed was safe and under the colonel's care that he would settle and more of his personality would shine through. That assumption was wrong, apparently. If this creature was acting anything like Edward, then it was a side of Edward that Roy had never seen; he was skittish and depressive... but also very affectionate at times. After he'd woken up in bed next to Roy this morning, Ed had pawed and nuzzled his superior until Roy finally caved in and petted him a little. It was really hard not to be tempted to treat the child like a dog, especially when he looked and acted so much like one.

Well, best not to dwell on it too much at the moment; there were more important things to worry about than how to socially interact with a half-human chimera.

First things first: the kid needed to be fed. The vet had told Roy to give Ed only a little bit of food at a time, since his body was still in starvation mode and an overload of food in his system could send him into a potentially deadly kind of shock. She had recommended giving him small portions of watered-down canned dog food several times a day, but there was no way in _hell_ that Roy was going to give him dog food... whether or not he was mostly dog at the moment.

Roy finally settled for warming him up a bowl of broth with little slivers of meat in it. He figured that it would have enough protein to sustain Edward for a while, but still be light enough not to make him sick. After he'd finished preparing it, he moved to set it on the floor, but then hesitated. He really didn't want the kid to have to eat on the floor... but it would certainly be too difficult for him to sit upright at the table. Well, it wasn't as if Ed's human sensibilities were going to suddenly kick in and make him refuse to eat off the ground, so Roy just set the bowl down on the white tiled floor of his kitchen with a frustrated sigh and called Ed over.

The kid gulped it all down without preamble, hunched and trembling, not even bothering to chew the chunks of meat before swallowing them. He lapped up the broth with a depressing amount of desperation, greedily emptying the bowl within seconds and then licking the floor where stray droplets had been spilled by his fervor. Roy watched him sadly, chewing his bottom lip. God, the poor kid was so hungry... Roy was tempted to give him more, but knew that this would not be a good idea; he would probably just throw it up anyway, the sudden excess of food too much for his stomach to handle. Well, maybe Roy would give him something else in an hour or two.

Even after it was empty Ed continued to lick the black ceramic bowl clean, his long nose pushing the dish across the floor with a harsh scraping noise. Roy crouched down to retrieve the empty dish and put it in the sink, but Ed growled threateningly as he reached down, his hackles raised in warning. Roy drew back, a little startled by Ed's aggression. Ed snarled again for good measure and turned back to the bowl.

"Okay, okay... I get it." Roy mumbled to him, standing upright again. He supposed that it was normal for a starving dog to be aggressive around food... but that didn't make Ed's behavior any less disturbing. Roy decided to just back off from the kid until he calmed down a little and went into his living room, depositing himself on the sofa. He cast his gaze around at the impressive stacks of manuscripts cluttering his coffee table and suppressed a sigh.

Roy had, stacked before him, every known article of The Sewing Life Alchemist's documented research—everything from published academic journals to random notes scratched out on coffee-stained napkins from that little cafe on 23rd street. It was going to take him an eternity to get through it all... and unfortunately the unpublished stuff wasn't even organized. These were Tucker's personal notes that he had certainly never intended for anyone else to see, so they were not written to be understood by anyone but himself. Some of the notes that Roy had looked through last night before going to bed were barely even legible, just loose ideas scrawled in quick bursts of inspiration. Roy himself was consistently guilty of doing the same thing when alchemic theories struck him—sometimes the writing was so rushed that even HE had trouble reading it the next day—but it was still frustrating to think that he was going to have to try and decipher each little bit of these notes if he expected to learn anything about the depraved man's practices.

Leaning forward to grab a random folder of notes, Roy caught sight of Ed slinking out of the kitchen quietly. He was walking very stiffly, no doubt in pain. The veterinarian had prescribed him some mild painkillers, but Roy knew that those would barely even take the edge off the agony in Ed's twisted body. He watched Ed move slowly to the other side of the couch and try to pull himself up, but the strain of trying to lift himself made him give a low, pained whine and he gave up quickly, opting to curl up on the floor next to Roy's leg instead.

Roy clenched his jaw and just tried to ignore him, pretending not to notice the warmth of Ed's breath on his bare foot. Instead, he just opened the file and began his search.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shit. Roy hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that unspeakable things had happened in this place. It was like nothing that Maes had ever encountered before in his career. It was like a bad dream. It was like Hell.

Lieutenant Colonel Hughes shuddered, both from the cold air in this damp, badly lit place and from some unseen force that ran a chilling finger down his spine. God, he couldn't wait to get out of here and he could tell that his men all felt the same way; they were all rushing about purposefully, every one of them eager to finish their tasks so that they could leave. Maes and his men had been here for the better part of the day and, now that night was falling and their assignment was almost finished, all of them were getting irritable and antsy... and the ominous, disquieting air packed inside the lab _really_ wasn't helping.

"Sir!" one of Maes' men called, jogging over to him, "We found more bodies in the basement. And some animals. We've already taken pictures and documented them."

"Good work. Go ahead and get them loaded in the truck. I think we still have a few more up here, too."

"Yes, sir. Also, Lieutenant Perry told me to bring these to you," the man said, producing a thick stack of files, "He found them downstairs."

Maes took the files and read the labels curiously. The top two read "_EXPERIMENT #27_" and "_EXPERIMENT #28_." Maes smiled grimly.

"Ah, excellent." he said to his subordinate, "Thank you. Colonel Mustang needs these... Tell Perry to finish up down there so that we can head out; I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible and I don't think I'm the only one."

The man smirked empathetically and saluted before running back toward the staircase. Maes watched him go and then lowered his eyes back down to the files. Good. Maes had been half-worried that the Anarchists had taken these files with them when they fled, for—as Maes and his men quickly discovered—it seemed that they had taken a great deal of the other documents before abandoning the lab. All of the file cabinets on the first floor had been completely gutted and it appeared that most of the "test subjects" had been taken as well, leaving behind only a few twisted bodies... some of which Maes was almost positive were going to give him nightmares tonight. Failed experiments, no doubt.

The lower level, however, was a different story. There was still a lot of evidence down there that had been left behind: files, bodies, chemicals, equipment... you name it, it was there, rotting and growing mold in the darkness. It looked as if the Anarchists had left in a hurry, driven by the fear of being caught. They needn't have been so rushed though, for according to Maes' best estimate these soulless people had been gone for weeks before Roy had even received the tip-off that Ed was here. Something must have scared them off, something above and beyond the thought of going to prison... or worse, if Roy ever got his hands on them.

Maes sighed. The military would probably never really know what had happened here... and it seemed that the higher-ups were more than a little uneasy about this investigation to begin with, so Maes highly doubted that he and his team would be allowed to do much more than a preliminary investigation. The Fuhrer wanted this thing hushed up and locked away in a vault before the citizens of his country got wind of it. It would not look good for the military if some of the more educated people in Amestris heard of such high-level alchemy being used in this way, since it wouldn't take long for them to suspect that those frighteningly powerful State Alchemists might have had a hand in the atrocity...

That wasn't true, of course... or at least Maes didn't think it was. He was on good terms with several of the State Alchemists and was best friends with one of them, and he knew without a doubt that none of them would ever even imagine taking part in something like this. Unfortunately, the public still viewed them through the blood-tinted lenses they'd been gifted with in the wake of the Eastern Rebellion, and it wasn't exactly a far stretch to think that those Destructors of Ishbal would practice such heinous experiments as these.

Still, in spite of the risks involved, Maes was furious that the Fuhrer wasn't allowing a more thorough investigation. The Alchemic Anarchists had been around for years, keeping just below the radar so that they never got caught, but this was far beyond their usual levels of depravity. This was mass murder. Who knew how many people had been taken by these monsters? Who could say how many children like Ed had been kidnapped and tortured for the sake of science?

Maes exhaled another low, frustrated sigh and walked over to one of the lab tables in the corner. Well, it didn't really matter right now, he supposed. The Anarchists were long gone and the most important thing at the moment was fixing Ed and identifying the bodies so that their families could be notified of their deaths—they would, of course, never be able to actually take the bodies for burial... not looking the way they did. After they were identified they would be disposed of quietly and no one outside of the military would ever know how badly they had been disfigured. Only Maes, Roy, and their men would remember these faces as they were now. Only they would carry the burden of their deadly deformities, recalling the twisted arrangements of teeth, eyes, and limbs as they lie awake at night.

It was just one more horror to lock away with the thousands of others that lurked in the dark corners of Maes' mind.

The lieutenant colonel shuddered and dropped the files onto a lab table, the surface of which was slightly less fouled by blood and mold than the surrounding tables. He pressed his hands against the scrubbed wood and leaned over the files, his wedding ring flashing in the sickly yellow light of the naked bulb suspended from the ceiling above him. He opened the file labeled "_EXPERIMENT #28_", and scanned over the handwritten charts and logs that were housed therein, but most of it consisted of symbols and transmutation circles and alchemic jargon that Maes didn't understand. Hopefully Roy would be able make sense out of it; it looked like there was a lot of information here.

Maes flipped through the documents, glossing over some of the logs. At the back of the file there was a series of photographs, each taken in the murky darkness of the downstairs portion of the lab. The first picture was of Edward as he had been before his transformation. He was being held still by two strong-looking men whose faces had been obscured by black ink to hide their identities. Ed had been stripped naked and his automail had been removed, his empty ports glinting in the camera light. His lip was split and his left eye was swollen shut, but even so the expression on his face was absolutely murderous. If he had been afraid, he didn't show it. The only emotion coming from him was a hate so potent that Maes could almost feel it like a wave of heat radiating from the photograph. He was _pissed_.

A chart below the picture read:

**SUBJECT:** _#28_

**SEX:** _male_

**AGE:** _approx._ _12-15 yrs. Exact age unknown_.

**HEIGHT:** _approx. 5 ft. Subject too violent for accurate measurement._

**WEIGHT:** _approx. 90 lbs. Subject too violent for accurate measurement._

**COMMENTS:** _#28 was taken from the streets of Central city. He is uncooperative and will not give any information about himself, but we are assuming that he is a thief by trade given the fact that he had a State Alchemist's watch in his pocket. He is, however, quite skilled in alchemy himself and has tried to escape using his arts several times..._

"God, these people are idiots..." Maes mumbled to himself as he read on,

_...He is volatile and should be treated with caution; HE IS TO BE BOUND AND GUARDED AT ALL TIMES UNTIL THE EXPERIMENT IS COMPLETE._

Maes smirked in spite of himself, looking at the picture again. Damn right, Ed was volatile. Frankly, Maes was surprised that they'd been able to keep him here for so long... then again, who knew how long his clever mind had been human enough to think of a way out? The lieutenant colonel worked his jaw, his eyes wandering over the photograph of Edward's naked, beaten body.

"Hang in there, Ed," he whispered softly, running his thumb over the edge of the photo.

"Lieutenant Colonel?"

Maes shook himself and looked up, blinking back the sudden grief that had misted his vision. "Yes, Lieutenant Perry?" he asked, clearing his throat as he closed the file.

"Everything is all packed up, sir," Perry said, his head tilted to the side in a quietly sympathetic way. He knew what that file contained and he was well aware of Maes' fondness for the Fullmetal Alchemist. "I think we're just about ready to head out."

"Good... That's good," Maes nodded, tucking the files under his arm and straightening. "Then let's get the hell out of here. I'll send for a crew to come in tomorrow and finish the clean up now that we have all of the evidence. Tell the men to be back at the vans in five minutes."

"Yes, sir."

The man saluted and turned to obey without another word. Maes hugged the files to his chest and silently prayed that Roy would be able to get some use out of them.


	5. His Alchemy High

"Do you want coffee? I need coffee," Roy said darkly, pulling himself up from amidst the massive sprawl of papers and books littering his table, his couch, and the floor space surrounding the two. Maes nodded, stifling an impressed grin as he looked down at the papery carnage that spanned nearly a three-foot radius around where Roy had been sitting on the floor. He chuckled as Roy moved past him and he set his burden of files from the lab on the arm of the couch where they wouldn't get lost in the chaos.

It was still fairly early in the morning. Maes had arrived back home from the lab sometime after midnight, taken a shower, and then collapsed into bed for a few hours, snuggling with his wife until the sun prodded him awake again by peeking in at him through his open bedroom window. Not that he really minded; he had wanted to bring the files over to Roy's house early this morning anyway, though this was quite a bit earlier than he'd intended. To Maes' surprise, though, Roy was already awake when he arrived...

Well, more specifically, he hadn't gone to bed at all yet.

The two men moved into the kitchen and Roy went about making coffee, massaging the side of his stiff neck with one hand. Maes sat at the table and watched him, frowning gently at his friend.

"You really need to get some sleep, Roy. You look like hell."

A sigh. "I know, I know... It feels like I haven't slept in weeks. I haven't had more than two or three hours at a time since before Breda and I went down to the lab." He put the coffee grounds into the filter and switched on the machine with a huge yawn.

"...Has your research led anywhere yet?" Maes asked and Roy gave another quiet sigh, seating himself at the table across from him.

"No, not really... I've found a few things here and there regarding chimera-reversal, but it's all disjointed and I can't make much sense of it. I decided to go through all the loose notes and scraps first because that's certainly going to be the most frustrating part of all this and I want to read it all before I get too burnt out... but—_shit,_ Maes—half the time I don't know what this bastard is talking about. It's all disorganized and a lot of it is way over my head."

He yawned again and looked blearily over at the clock on the wall above the kitchen sink. It read just after seven A.M. and he gave a low, unhappy laugh. "I've been at this for nearly twenty-four hours straight..." he mused sourly, "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

Maes gifted him with a lopsided smirk and Roy lowered his head down onto the table, his brow bumping the wooden surface with perhaps a little more force than he'd intended it to and he gave a soft "_Ow_," in complaint. Maes chuckled and reached over to tousle his black hair affectionately.

"Take a break for a few hours and go to bed, Roy," Maes encouraged, "Reading this stuff while exhausted isn't going to help you to understand it any better."

"...Yeah. I'll take a nap after Edward wakes up. After he eats something and takes his pills, maybe; the meds make him groggy, so he'll probably just want to go back to sleep anyway."

Maes nodded and then looked around, "Where is he, anyway?"

"In my bed," Roy said with a shrug, his head still down on the table and his eyes closed, "He prefers it to the couch. It took me forever to get him to sleep last night... he wanted me to go to bed, too but I was still working, so I had to lie in there with him for like an hour before he finally dropped off. He slept through the rest of the night, though. I don't think he's even moved an inch."

Maes laughed quietly. "Now you know what it's like to have kids. When Elysia was a baby, she was just the same way. Didn't want me out of her sight for a second, not even to sleep."

Roy turned his head to the side and looked at Maes blankly, his cheek pressed against the cool surface of the table. He looked as if he were mulling over what Maes had just said, his gaze distant and vaguely disturbed. But then he shook himself and straightened again, glancing over at the coffee pot to see if it was done yet. It wasn't.

"So how is he doing? Any change at all?" Maes asked quietly, leaning his chin on his hand.

"Well..." Roy began, rubbing at his neck again, "He doesn't really do much but sleep and eat. Mostly sleep. He still can't remember my name."

"Has he said anything?"

"Not a whole lot. He says 'Ed' quite frequently, mostly when he's just mumbling to himself. He thanks me when I help him up onto the couch or the bed... at least, I _think_ that's what he's saying... and he's figured out that if he says 'outside', I'll let him out into the yard so that that he can... use the bathroom... but that's just about it. Sometimes he just repeats whatever I say. He's quiet most of the time, but he'll give me yes and no answers if I ask him questions. I've tried asking about the alchemy that was used on him, but he doesn't seem to understand..."

"I see," Maes said sadly. They fell silent for several beats, listening to the harsh gurgling of the coffee pot echo in the small kitchen.

Roy worked his jaw for a moment then said, "I'm going to need to find him some better painkillers. The ones he has hardly do anything for him. His shoulders and his hips seem to bother him the most; he has a bad limp and he cries out whenever he has to stand up." He closed his tired eyes and rubbed at them with the heels of his palms thoughtfully, "I have some connections at Central Hospital... maybe I can get him some kind of opiate..."

"...You want to give the kid narcotics?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Roy asked acidly, suddenly irritated, "It's not like I'm trying to get him high; I'll just give him enough to ease some of the pain, Maes. He _needs_ it."

"...I know," Maes murmured, sagging a little, "Sorry. I know that I keep questioning you, but this whole situation... it's still a lot to absorb."

"Yeah..." Roy agreed darkly then looked over at the coffee pot again hopefully. It was done brewing. Roy stood and took two mugs down from the cabinet, saying, "I can probably get my hands on some morphine without too much trouble... and that I can dilute and give to him orally so that I can control the dosage better. I'm not too worried about him becoming dependant on it and as long as I keep the dosage low there shouldn't be many side-effects."

Maes nodded uncomfortably but didn't say anything. He just sat there and watched Roy pour the coffee. The man's hands were shaking almost imperceptibly. Maes frowned a little at that.

"Are _you_ okay, Roy?" he asked after a long, calculating pause.

"Me?" he queried, pausing in the middle of putting sugar into Maes' coffee, then he shrugged, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. My arm hurts where he bit me and I'm just really tired. Fullmetal makes it hard for me to sleep."

"Why? Does he wake you up a lot or something?"

"No... He just..." Roy trailed off, bringing the two cups of coffee back to the table and sitting down. He looked both thoughtful and a little awkward as he handed Maes his cup and continued, "He really creeps me out, I guess. I'm starting to get used to it, but it's still..." he trailed off again, searching for an adequate description, but then he shrugged and gave up, "well, I'm sure you know what I mean."

Maes did know. It was probably like the ominous feeling that he'd had in the lab, that gut-twisting sensation of dread and disgust. The lieutenant colonel didn't think he'd be able to sleep either if he were sharing a bed with something that gave off that feeling.

"_Ed...?_"

Maes jumped a little at the sudden voice behind him and looked around. Speak of the Devil; Edward was moving slowly out of the short hallway that led to Roy's bedroom. He stepped into the kitchen, his shoulders hunched and his tail tucked. He looked up at Maes warily as if not quite sure what to make of him, then plodded over to Roy and leaned against his leg like a shy child taking comfort from a parent.

"Good morning, Edward," Roy greeted, his voice casual and even as if speaking to a co-worker rather than to a tortured chimera-child.

"..._Muh-huh-orning, Ed-ward..._" the boy tried to repeat, still looking sidelong at Maes.

"Hello, Ed," Maes said to him quietly, doing his best to fake nonchalance as his heart constricted painfully. Ed didn't reply, but looked up at Roy uncertainly.

"It's okay," Roy assured him, "Say hi."

"_...Hi_," Ed mumbled to Maes timidly after a grudging pause.

"Good. Now, do you remember my name yet?" Roy asked him.

Ed heaved a sigh and didn't respond, choosing instead to bury his long face against Roy's leg apologetically. Roy reached down and put a hand on his golden head tenderly, a gesture that struck Maes as both out of character and painfully sweet.

"No, then?"

"_...No..._"

"That's okay. We'll try again later," Roy said, taking a sip of his coffee and gracefully concealing his disappointment. "...Are you hungry?"

"_Yes_."

"Alright," Roy said, getting to his feet and moving over to one of the cabinets, "but pills first."

"_No_."

Roy paused and looked down at him in surprise, "No?"

"_No pills. No, no_."

"...You have to take them, Edward. I don't care if you don't want to."

"_No!_"

Roy glanced over at Maes again, looking both irritated and pleased at the same time. "Even as a chimera, he's still arguing with me... he must be feeling a little better this morning. He's never done this before..." he said, a wry smile tugging the corner of his mouth but then he quickly sobered himself and turned back to Ed. "The pills will make you feel better, I promise. They helped a little yesterday, remember? Just take the medicine and then I'll give you something to eat, okay?"

Ed did not look pleased, but he nodded obediently and Roy went back to rummaging through the cabinet. The chimera turned to Maes again and the man plastered a friendly smile onto his face.

"He's mean, isn't he?" Maes asked in a low, playful voice, trying to endear himself to the boy and put him more at ease.

"..._Mean_...?" Ed mused, his tawny brow slightly furrowed in thought. Maes could tell that he recognized the word, but didn't remember what it meant... then Ed's yellow eyes brightened in understanding. "_Yes, mean!_" he hissed, turning indignantly to glower at Roy's back, "_Mean!_ _Pills, mean!_"

Roy froze and looked down at Ed, then he turned to glare at Maes over his shoulder. "Oh _thanks_, Maes," he muttered sarcastically, pulling Ed's medication from the shelf, "That's a big help."

Maes laughed knowing that he wasn't really angry. He knew that Roy was trying to stifle it, but a genuine smile had still found itself tugging at the corners of his mouth.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Medicated and fed, Edward meandered out into the living room and lowered himself stiffly onto the floor beside the coffee table, resting his chin on a haphazard stack of documents. Maes and Roy followed him, coffee cups in hand and Roy picked up the files that Maes had placed on the arm of the couch, frowning.

"This is all you could find? Just these four files?" he asked, disappointed. He had been hoping for more... but he supposed that he would take what he could get at this point.

"Yeah. The place was pretty well cleaned out of paperwork and these were the only files that had anything to do with chimeras. I think we're lucky just to have these," Maes replied with a shrug, "At least Ed's file was still there..."

Roy nodded and opened Edward's file. This was encouraging, at least; if Roy could discover how exactly Edward had been transmuted, then it would certainly be much easier for him to figure out how to reverse it. Even just flipping through the file quickly, Roy could see that there was a lot of useful information here. It was heartening to see the theorems and transmutation circles drawn out on so clearly on the crisp white pages; this would certainly be easier to read than Tucker's scraps...

"So how much of this have you read so far?" Maes asked, carefully stepping around the scattered papers so that he could seat himself on a bare corner of the coffee table next to where Ed had settled himself on the floor. Ed looked up at him and then thumped his tail contentedly, knocking a few sheets of paper from a pile.

"I don't know... maybe a fourth of it. It's hard to say," Roy mumbled, closing Ed's file and setting it back on the couch with the others. "Like I said, I've only been reading the loose notes so far... I haven't even begun to delve into his books yet."

Roy looked over at the thick volumes of Tucker's alchemic theory and his shoulders slumped; he was dreading those. In Roy's most humble opinion, there are few things in the world duller than academic alchemy... even if it involved fire. Applying alchemy was great, but simply reading about it was absolute torture. Roy loved alchemy and he loved reading, but the combination of the two was both boring and frustrating. He preferred to do his research through experiment rather than books, but he did not have the time or the resources to get his own results at the moment. He wanted to get Ed back to normal as quickly as he could, so using the Sewing Life Alchemist's notes was a much more prudent course of action... but still, it was unpleasant.

Roy yawned and rolled his sore, stiff shoulders. Maes was right, he really should take a break for a while; he wasn't much help to Edward in his current state of exhaustion and irritation... but god, he had _so much to do_ still, potentially days of work ahead of him.

Maes picked up one of the books and opened it curiously, flipping through the pages. Roy watched his aimless skimming wistfully, wishing that the man could help him with his research but knowing that he would be more of a distraction than an aid. Hm. Maybe Maes could at least help sort everything out to make the information easier to go through...

"Why don't you just go through the books first?" Maes asked, turning back to the front of the journal, "The information here might be more complete, right?"

"...True," Roy admitted, "But chances are that I'm going to have to read everything here anyway, so I might as well get through the worst of it first."

"But what if you just started flipping through the table of contents and saw a chapter called something like 'Changing Back Chimeras' or 'How to fix Ed'...?"

Roy smirked bitterly, "That'd be nice... but, unfortunately, life is never that easy."

Maes sighed but then nodded in agreement, returning his gaze to the book glumly as Roy took another pull at his coffee. But then suddenly his green eyes widened and a disbelieving smile stretched across his face, "Oh ho! I think that I'm about to prove you wrong, my friend..."

"..._What_?" Roy half-sputtered, inhaling some of his coffee.

Maes grinned again evilly and turned the book toward Roy stabbing his finger down at the page, "Chapter eighteen, read it and weep."

Roy snatched the book from him and looked at the header on the page, holding his breath. And there it was. Written on the top of the page in bold-faced type were the words:

"**CHAPTER XVIII: Chimera Reversal**"

The colonel's mouth went dry and his heart gave a startled little lurch. He read it again, thinking that perhaps his tired eyes had deceived him. But no, the words were really there, mocking him.

"...Maes, you son of a _bitch_..." he breathed, raising his gaze to his friend. Maes was absolutely preening, pretending to polish his fingernails on the front of his shirt and still grinning. "I don't know whether to kiss you or kill you..."

"What can I say? I'm blessed," Maes sniffed demurely.

"...No, I'm just an _idiot_," Roy half-laughed, half-seethed, "See? I knew there was a reason that I kept you around, Maes; you counterbalance my stupidity."

Maes gave an amused little wince. "You aren't an idiot... you're just over-tired. You're probably just not thinking right. Seriously, go to bed or something now that we've made some headway. I'll look after Ed."

"Are you joking? I can't sleep _now_, Maes," he said excitedly, starting to scan through the first page of the chapter, "Not after finding this. Not when I'm so close..."

Maes sighed, "Roy..."

But Roy ignored him and shoved aside some of the files covering the couch and seated himself. This was too important to be delayed by fatigue. He could not rest when the answer was in his hands. Edward's salvation depended on this and to stop now, even for a moment, was an unspeakably cruel thing to do to the boy. This would not be delayed any longer. Roy had made a promise to fix Ed and with this first lurching step, that promise was beginning to morph into reality.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roy sat on the couch unmovingly, mumbling to himself every once in a while as he flipped back and forth between the files that Maes had taken from the lab and Tucker's academic journal. It was fascinating to watch him gather his information like this, but his intensity was also a little alarming. It was like he was in a trance, feverishly taking notes and sketching out rough transmutation circles on a scrap of paper. Maes' discovery had rejuvenated him, lending his bright onyx eyes a manic sort of animation as they traveled across the dense, information-laden pages. Maes could almost see how Roy's clever mind was making connections and positively sucking in everything that he was reading, absorbing it, owning it, tearing it apart and putting it back together again in every conceivable pattern until it told him exactly what he wanted to know.

"...Is this it, then?" Maes asked after an hour or two of bemusedly watching his friend work, "Is this really what we were looking for?"

"Shh. Maes, please," Roy mumbled without looking up. He would not be distracted.

Maes sighed and turned from his perch on the coffee table to look down at Ed. The kid had fallen asleep again not too long after Roy had begun reading, drugged and most likely unaware of Roy's desperate search for his cure. He was sprawled contentedly on the floor, one paw outstretched so that it touched Roy's bare foot. Roy either didn't notice or didn't care, too absorbed in his reading to register the child's vague affections. Ed was snoring very softly, his gentle exhalations accompanying the crisp rustling of papers in the otherwise-silent room.

Maybe Maes should just go home. He was tired... surely not as tired at Roy, but still more than willing to crawl back into bed with his wife before she got up. It was Saturday, after all... and it wasn't as if he was going to be missed here. Roy was so involved in his research that he probably wouldn't even notice if his house caught fire and Edward was dead-to-the-world asleep. Maes was about to tell Roy that he was going to go home and get out of his hair, but before he could do so Roy shot to his feet and moved distractedly over to the closed door on the far side of the room, his notes in hand.

"Where are you going...?" Maes asked, a little startled by his abrupt movement after hours of contemplative stillness.

Roy turned, his hand on the knob of the door. He looked at Maes while really looking past him, his thoughts a million miles away. "But I might need... maybe a pen..." he mumbled to himself distantly, then opened the door and began to descend down the dark flight of stairs to his basement.

Maes half-considered following him, but then decided against it. The basement was Roy's alchemy workroom and Maes had learned the hard way not to disturb the man when he was in the middle of a project. Maes shuddered at the memory; he'd thought his eyebrows were never going to grow back... If Roy needed his help, he'd ask for it. Otherwise it was a good idea to just stay out of the Flame Alchemist's way when he was working.

Instead Maes moved to the couch and took the seat that Roy had just vacated, leaning his head back against the soft cushion and closing his eyes. He might as well get a little shuteye until Roy came down from his alchemy high. His passion was encouraging, though... maybe he'd already figured something out and that's why he had gone down into his workroom, to implement some of the knowledge that he'd just gained. He certainly seemed both excited and entirely consumed by what he'd been reading. Perhaps Edward's salvation was only a few moments away... Perhaps Roy already knew how to change him back and free him from his animal prison...

Maes must have dropped off for a while, for the next thing he knew someone had smacked him in the arm to rouse him from his doze. He forced his eyes open and looked around blearily until his gaze landed on Roy, his lithe form silhouetted by the warm mid-afternoon sun that was streaming in through the window. In Maes' sleep-hazed eyes, he looked like a god, immortal and victorious, eager to show the world his power.

"I finished it," he said, his voice lilted by the huge smile stretched across his lips.

"...Wha?" Maes responded unfocusedly, pushing his glasses up so that he could rub his eyes. "Finished what?"

"I can change him back now, Maes. I know how," he said, his words quick and excited as he grabbed Maes and hauled him to his feet. "It's all ready, so come on."

Roy headed back toward the basement and Maes followed groggily, his mind still in the drowsy clutches of his nap. Ed was already awake and, at Roy's gentle coaxing, he plodded down the stairs after the colonel and Maes followed suit, doing his best not to stumble on the dark steps.


	6. The Sonorous Force of His Disquiet

The Flame Alchemist's workroom was dimly lit and cluttered, the pervasive smells of sulphur and ethanol slightly masked by the fresher, sharper tang of drying paint. Maes had been down in this dark room a few times before, but he couldn't say that he particularly enjoyed the atmosphere; it was gloomy and what little light there was glinted menacingly off of the test tubes, flasks, and other scientific equipment that Roy kept on his paper-strewn desk. Still, Maes found himself suddenly wide-awake as he descended the final two steps, his lungs sucking in a startled gasp of awe.

In the center of the room was a new adornment that had not been there the last time Maes have ventured to wander down into this alchemic pit. It was a structure of some sort, hewn from many thin, sharp, four-foot high pillars of stone that speared upward out of the basement's dust colored floor to form a wicked-looking ring in the middle of the chamber. The space between each pillar was only about four inches across, though there was one larger gap of perhaps two feet, the opening of which was partially blocked by a warped plank of wood that swung out on hinges like a crude kind of door.

It was a pen, Maes realized slowly, like for animals. So that's what Roy had been mumbling about...

And in the center of the pen was a transmutation circle. It was huge, perhaps fifteen feet in diameter and so detailed that it hurt Maes' eyes to look at it for too long. The lines were bold and perfect, painstakingly brushed onto the floor just inside the ring of stone with bright red paint. It was a swirling circle of ordered chaos, the lines and alchemic symbols entwining, overlapping, and separating into a detailed network that was both beautiful and almost frightening to gaze upon.

"Goddamn, Roy..." Maes breathed, "How the hell did you manage to get all this done so quickly...?

"_Quickly_?" Roy asked, turning to his friend incredulously. He had a few smears of paint on his cheek but he didn't seem to notice. "What do you mean, 'quickly'? This took me _hours_!"

Maes blinked. "...Damn, how long was I asleep?"

"Since like nine o'clock, and it is now..." He consulted his pocket watch, "half past one."

"...Oh."

Roy rolled his eyes and looked back over at his creation appraisingly. Edward was circling the structure slowly, his head held low and his long body tensed. Roy watched him for a moment, then said:

"I'm going to have to do this in stages. Trying to change him back all at once would kill him, according to Tucker's notes. His body is so strained and contorted as it is... too much stress and it could break down entirely. I'll need to be very careful."

"...How long do you think it'll take for him to be... normal again?" Maes asked quietly, his eyes also riveted to Ed's hunched form. He saw Roy shrug peripherally.

"I dunno. Days. Maybe weeks. I have to just play it by ear at first... I have to see how much he can take at once."

"...How much he can take...?"

"This is... not exactly going to be pleasant for him," Roy said softly, keeping his voice low so that Ed wouldn't overhear, "It's going to be hard, and it's going to hurt... and he's already been through so much..." He trailed off for a moment, still watching Ed with his deep, fathomless eyes, then cleared his throat and went on, "And then there's still the chance that this won't work at all..."

"Well," Maes said gently, "we'll never know if we don't try, right?"

The corner of Roy's mouth twitched. "Right."

The two men fell silent as Ed continued examining the perimeter of the makeshift pen. He'd looked uncomfortable at first, but that discomfort was quickly turning into anxiety. A soft, unhappy whine was lurching from his throat as he paced around the ring of stone, his golden gaze locked onto the transmutation circle within.

"_No..._" he moaned softly, "_No. Bad. Twenty-eight..._"

Roy took a sharp breath, looking stricken by the sick horror in Ed's warped voice. Perhaps it hadn't occurred to him that Ed might look at this glorious transmutation circle and make connections to his own recent trauma, but in retrospect the pen itself must be terrifyingly reminiscent of the cage he'd been forced to inhabit over the past few months. And the transmutation circle... Ed might not remember much about alchemy, but Maes had a sick gut feeling that he remembered that pain and horror of being transformed and knew that a circle such as this had caused it.

"Come on, Edward," Roy said to him, shaking himself a little as he stepped over to the door of the pen and pulled it all the way open, "I need you to get inside. This is going to help you."

"_No... Mean..._" Ed rasped, his head swaying from side to side as he backed away from Roy, a look of animal betrayal widening his yellow eyes so that they seemed to glow in the dim light. "_Hurt Ed..."_

The colonel clenched his jaw and glanced over at Maes uncertainly, but then swallowed and turned back to Ed with a nod. "Yes, it's going to hurt..." he admitted to the chimera quietly, "but we have to do it if we want to fix you, okay? Do you want to stay like this forever?"

A shudder rolled through Edward and he lowered his head even further so that the blond fur at his brow slid forward and obscured his face. "_No_," he rasped hollowly.

"Then we have to do this, Edward. I need you to trust me."

"_Trust me_," Ed repeated, his voice hitched with fear as he hesitantly plodded back toward his superior and let Roy guide him into the pen. Roy stepped back out and closed the little door, then lowered himself onto his knees and reached through the gaps in the stone pillars to rest his fingers on the edge of the transmutation circle.

"...I dunno about this, Roy..." Maes said uneasily, a sudden feeling of foreboding twisting his insides. Ed's anxiety was contagious and this dark room gave Maes the creeps anyway, making him feel the need to voice his concerns in spite of Roy's confidence. "Maybe you should do this when you're not so tired..."

"I'm _fine_, Maes," Roy snapped, looking up at him over his shoulder, "Besides, I'm not going to do much more than get a feel for the alchemy right now. I'm just going to push him a little bit so that I'll know how far I can take it next time. It'll be easy."

Maes held up his hands in defensive mime. "Okay, you're the alchemist..."

Roy nodded curtly and returned his attention to the circle under his fingers, closing his eyes. Hm. Maybe Roy was right... He was, after all, a very skilled alchemist and it looked like he knew what he was doing... Then again, he was still exhausted—no matter what adrenaline rush he'd been gifted with in the wake of his discoveries—and had a rather bad tendency of making bad judgment calls when he was overly tired. But then Maes shook his head. There was no talking Roy out of this now; he was still caught up in his own excitement and Maes just knew that nothing he could say would make the Flame take a step back. So, instead, Maes sighed and stood close, the caution of a soldier squaring his jaw and making his eyes sharp as he waited for his friend to begin.

Roy took a deep breath and the lines beneath his fingers began to glow softly. The glow spread outward through the circle like blood flowing through a tangle of veins, filling the room with an eerie electrical light. The glow reached Ed's crouched, quivering form and enveloped him. The frightened chimera jolted as if shocked by the flood of light surrounding him and jumped up with a pained, nervous whine. The light intensified and almost immediately Ed's soft whining turned into high-pitched shrieks of agony, the terrifying sound ricocheting off of the dusty stone walls of the basement and slamming Maes in the gut with the sonorous force of his disquiet. Yelping in pain, Ed stumbled around the perimeter of his enclosure looking for a way out, frantically trying to escape from the circle that was inflicting him.

"Roy, I think that's enough..." Maes said quietly, his stomach turning to witness the boy's pain and desperation.

The alchemist either didn't hear him or was ignoring him completely—too entranced by the power coursing through his fingertips to even open his eyes—and instead of pulling back he pushed forward even harder so that the glow of the circle lit all corners of this dark underground room, obliterating shadows with cold radiance.

Ed screamed, all four of his legs buckling under the dire weight of his pain. He hit the floor hard and made no attempt to get back up. He curled in on himself like a dead spider, his thin, near-skeletal back heaving as he gasped for breath between pained cries. He coughed sharply, gagging on both pain and the streams of blood that was starting to flow from his nose. It was a terrifying sight.

"Roy, STOP!" Maes pleaded, his cry almost entirely swallowed by the louder sounds of Ed's screams and the electric roar of the alchemic reaction.

Roy's eyes shot open wide as if he'd just been awoken from a nightmare and he looked over at Maes, dazed. And then, to Maes' horror, his eyelids fluttered and he pitched sideways onto the cold stone of the floor, as limp and lifeless as a rag-doll. His fingers broke contact with the circle and the transmutation ceased, plunging the room back into a darkness that was both quiet and entirely too still after such a terrifying burst of light and chaos.

Ed's shrieking died away into a lurching, plaintive whine that sounded disconcertingly similar to the sobbing of a very young child. His parental instincts shaken by the sound, Maes ran past Roy's unconscious form toward the door of the pen and flung it open, rushing to Ed's side. He was curled into a tight ball, trembling and crying, his long muzzle smeared with blood.

"Ed? Kid, can you hear me?" Maes asked frantically, kneeling down beside him and reaching out a cautious hand to brush the long strands of golden hair out of his face. Ed flinched in response but then the whimpering quieted a little and he opened his eyes, giving the lieutenant colonel a tiny, frightened nod in reply. Maes exhaled sharply, relieved.

A low, weak moan sounded from beyond the confines of the pen and Maes raised his head, looking over at Roy. The man was trying to push himself upright with moderate success. He groaned again softly and grabbed one of the stone pillars, using it for leverage so that he could sit up. He pulled himself up onto his knees with some difficulty and leaned his forehead against the stone, panting.

"You okay, Roy?" Maes asked, his tone a little icy.

"Uh... yeah..." Roy rasped, sounding as if he was going to be sick, "...Is _he_ okay?"

"You hurt him," Maes accused, angry, "But, yeah, I think he's okay."

Roy raised his head and looked over at Ed woozily, taking in his frail, whimpering form, "I think that was a little too much..." he stated blearily, seemingly unaware of Maes' ire toward him, "I'll have to hold back more next time..."

"No shit, Roy," Maes mumbled, looking back down at Ed, "I_ told_ you that you were too tired..." The kid was making a feeble attempt to stand, but his wobbling legs would not support him and he fell back down with a sharp yelp. "Shh... Be still, Ed," Maes crooned to him gently, running a hand along his back soothingly. Edward shifted a little in response and buried his face against Maes' arm, still trembling. Maes clenched his jaw and slid his arms under Ed. The kid stiffened and yelped again as Maes lifted him off the floor but did not struggle and instead pressed himself even closer. Maes made a low, reassuring sound and held the boy's head against his chest comfortingly.

Maes saw Roy wince a little at the plaintive sound that Ed had made, closing his eyes as if the tiny cry had been physically painful for him to hear. He didn't look too good... he had looked bad before he had done the transmutation, but now he looked half-dead. He was pale and shaking and was obviously having a great deal of trouble with the simple task of getting to his feet. After a few failed attempts, Roy finally managed to stand, leaning heavily on the stability of the pen. Maes carried Ed over to him and then, very quietly, asked:

"What do you want me to do with him?"

Roy looked over at the scared, trembling burden in Maes' arms, his face drawn. He reached out a hesitant hand and touched Ed very softly, but the boy jerked away from him as if burned.

"_M-mean... bad..._" he cried softly, "_Like them... l-like bad place. Hurt Ed. Twenty-eight..._"

The colonel pulled his hand back quickly and cleared his throat, forcing himself to hide the flash of horrified guilt that briefly etched itself onto his tired face and turned his attention back to Maes. "Just put him upstairs. I'll be up in a minute."

Maes looked at him for a moment chewing his lip, half-sorry about the anger he was feeling toward Roy and his forceful transmutation. It had been careless of him to insist on doing it when he was so worn... but he certainly hadn't _meant_ to go as far as he had and Ed's obvious pain was rebuke enough. Maes didn't need to make it worse with his own harsh feelings.

"Okay. Do you want me to give him some of the painkillers that the vet gave him? It might not do much, but something is better than nothing..."

Roy nodded slowly, looking back toward the circle, his expression completely closed. Maes bit his lip again and turned from him, carrying Ed back toward the flight of stairs. The doorway at the top looked inviting after being in this dark place, a welcoming rectangle of light at the top of the stairs. Maes looked back at Roy, but Ed gave another plaintive whimper and Maes shook himself, turning back to the stairs and beginning his climb.

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Roy looked down at the circle darkly. It was too big. That was part of the problem; it was just too damn big. Too powerful. It had reacted too much with Ed's suffering body and it had taken too much from Roy... and sure, it had probably been a bad idea to attempt something like this while so tired to begin with, but the deep exhaustion tugging at the corners of his mind now was far beyond just the effects of sleeplessness and stress. He could barely even stand. Roy bowed his head a little, fighting back a sudden wave of nausea.

The transmutation had sucked way more energy from him than he'd intended it to. The immense size and detail that Roy had put into the circle had made it vastly more powerful than he had anticipated and he'd lost control of the reaction. It had gotten away from him, feeding off of him and stunning him as it raced through the circle and coursed into Edward, trying to reshape his twisted form...

Luckily, the transmutation's energy source—namely, Roy—had run out before it could get truly nasty and tear Ed apart completely. As odd as it sounded, it was undoubtedly a good thing that Roy had gone into this so fatigued; if he'd been at the peak of his performance when the reaction had gotten away from him, Edward surely would have been killed by the speed of his transformation. The human body—or the canine body, for that matter—is a very durable thing, but expecting it to be able to withstand such a violent change was nothing short of idiotic... his insides would have given way, his bones warping and his organs hemorrhaging... turning him into a tangled mess of half-congealed blood and mismatched parts.

Roy's stomach lurched again, bile rising to the back of his throat. He banished that thought from his mind quickly. He wasn't going to let that happen. Next time he would have more control. Next time he would be more careful.

The man sighed and straightened himself, turning away from the circle. He really wanted to fix the circle now, to redraw it and limit its power a bit so that it wouldn't be so unpredictable, but he really needed to just step away from this before he made any more mistakes. Maes was right: he was too tired to be doing this and now he was even more drained. Roy limped over to the foot of the stairs and looked up toward the door with a groan. He had climbed these stairs many, many times over the past few years but never before had these fourteen steps looked so insurmountable. He honestly didn't know if he'd be able to make the climb in his current state. Perhaps he should call for Maes and have him help him up the stairs... but no, he was taking care of Edward...

With another low, tired sigh, Roy began to drag himself up the stairs. The going was slow and he was already winded before he'd even made it half up the flight. He gasped for breath, muscles screaming as he put one foot in front of the other, pulling himself upward. By the time he reached the top he was shaking like a leaf and his heart was racing so fast that it felt like it was going to burst. He stood at the top of the stairwell dazedly, gripping the handrail and doubling over to catch his breath. His head was pounding, swimming in a muddled haze that was openly threatening to yank him down into unconsciousness. He fought against the tug of darkness and blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his blurring vision.

"...Roy?"

Roy raised his heavy head. Maes was on the other side of the room, looking at him over his shoulder. He had placed Ed on the couch and was hovering over him, stroking his side calmingly. "...Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, "You look like you're about to pass out."

Roy's vision faded out again, pulsing black in a dull throb behind his eyes. He most certainly _was_ going to pass out. There was no avoiding it now. The only question was whether or not he was going to make it to the couch before he lost consciousness. He took a small, lurching step forward and the room rocked around him queasily.

Nope. He definitely wasn't going to make it to the couch.

"...I'm... I'm fine, Maes," he rasped unfocusedly, "But I just... I'm gonna..."

But then his knees buckled and the world rushed up to meet him. His cheek connected hard with the cold wooden floor, white and yellow stars bursting behind his eyelids.

The last thing his floundering mind registered was the sound of hurried footsteps pounding toward him and a frightened voice calling his name.

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**((A/N: sorry I was a little later than usual posting this one. My inspiration for this story is flagging and I'm getting rather irritated with it. I promise to finish this, but I might not be able to keep up with posting a new chapter each week. I will do my best, though. I'm just in a moody funk right now, but I'll get out of it soon ))**


	7. Painkiller

Oh _god_, it hurt.

It felt like someone was driving freezing spikes of metal through his eye sockets and into his brain, the painful cold pounding across his brow and crawling down toward the base of his skull. He closed his eyes tightly against the light streaming in through the parted curtains on his window. Ugh. Had he been drinking? He rolled over in his bed with a groan and his stomach lurched unhappily. It certainly _felt_ like he'd been drinking, but he couldn't remember. His mind was in a swirling fog of half-recalled visions and distorted words. He remembered light and he remembered a power coursing through him that was so intoxicating that it drowned out everything else. It sucked the air from his lungs and made his head spin so chaotically that he had almost... _almost_ been able to block out the screaming.

...But who had been screaming?

Roy groped for memories clumsily from the depths of his exhaustion but they scurried away from him, teasing him, dancing just beyond his reach. After only a few moments though he lost interest and allowed himself to sink back down into the abyss of sleep. And he slept _deeply_—whether it was for five minutes or five hours, Roy couldn't say for sure—and he might have slept longer were it not for the bright, clinking noise that suddenly awoke him again.

_Keys_, he thought distantly, _Someone's unlocking the front door..._

He opened his eyes again and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom blankly, disoriented. Night had fallen outside his window since the last time he'd awoken and the room was a little cold in spite of his heavy blanket. His poor head was still throbbing, but now, at least, he remembered why.

"Hey, Ed," a voice from out in the front room said amiably. Roy heard a door close. "Is he still asleep?"

Another voice replied to the first one, but its tone was too low to carry far enough for Roy to hear it. Gentle, hesitant footsteps sounded in the short hallway outside of Roy's half-open bedroom door and he rolled his heavy, head to the side. A shadow appeared in the doorway, tall and lean, his face obscured by darkness.

"You still alive, Roy?" Maes asked, his words only half in jest.

"...I think so..." Roy mumbled, wincing as he tried to raise his head a little, "Although... I think I'd rather not be..."

"God, you scared the hell out of me," Maes scolded, stepping into the room and seating himself familiarly on the edge of Roy's bed, "After you passed out I was about ready to call an ambulance until you started snoring..."

"I'm fine. That transmutation was just... it was too much for me. It happens," he mumbled, rubbing his face. He paused for a beat then looked up at Maes again groggily, "I don't snore."

"You snore."

"I do not," he insisted, attempting to push himself upright, "Help me up."

Maes unquestioningly slid his arm around Roy's shoulders and supported him as he sat up. The world rocked violently and Roy's stomach churned again in response. He moaned and covered his face with his hands, taking deep breaths to fight back his pain and nausea.

"...You gonna be sick?" Maes asked, running a comforting hand up and down Roy's back in a way that betrayed him as the father of a young child. It was always a little irritating to Roy when Maes got all paternal on him, but at the moment he was too preoccupied with keeping his stomach contents where they were to say anything about it. Instead he just shook his head and continued to breathe deeply until the nausea subsided a little.

"Gracia made some soup for you and Ed, if you want it," Maes began after a moment, tilting his head to the side.

"...I doubt I could keep it down at the moment, but thank her for me," Roy grated, pulling away from Maes and lowering his legs over the edge of the bed. "I feel like I have a hangover."

"You_ look_ like you have a hang over."

Roy laughed darkly. "Thanks."

Maes smiled worriedly, then reached over and pressed his hand to Roy's forehead, checking for a temperature. Roy shrugged him off quickly.

"I'm fine, Maes. Really. Go back out and keep Edward company; I'll be there in a minute," Roy told him dismissively, massaging his temples, "I still not quite awake yet."

The man looked uncertain for a beat, then nodded and got to his feet, "Okay. I'll go ahead and feed Ed, then. Hopefully he'll eat. He wouldn't earlier."

Roy stopped and looked up at him again. "...How is he doing?" he asked quietly.

"Better," Maes replied, his tone suddenly a little clipped, "but not great." And with that he turned and left the room.

Roy watched him go silently, the sharp pang of guilt returning to him with a vengeance. He couldn't exactly blame Maes for being angry... He really should have given himself time to think over the transmutation before jumping into it so passionately. If he had given himself more time to reflect, then perhaps he would have realized that he'd made the circle too powerful and he could have fixed it before putting Ed through something like that. Well, at least now they knew what to expect from the transmutation next time and it would certainly never be this bad for Ed again. True, it was still going to hurt, but it wouldn't be quite so terrible. Roy would make sure of that.

Roy sighed again, then put his feet to the floor and stood hesitantly. He tried to take a step but staggered and had to catch himself on the wall. He gave an exasperated, sick little moan and looked back over at the bed. The rumpled blanket looked so inviting... but no, if it was already past nightfall, that meant that he had been asleep for hours already and he should probably get up. At the very least he should try to drink something; he was shaky and weak with dehydration and just going back to bed would probably just make him feel even worse.

So, with an unhappy curse, Roy pushed himself away from the stability of the wall and stumbled out into the front room.

Maes and Edward were in the kitchen. Maes was pouring warmed-over soup into a bowl and Edward was sprawled disinterestedly under the table, staring into space. When he saw Roy he raised his head a little, then lowered it again and flattened his ears back against his skull. Roy looked down at him for a moment then moved over to stand next to Maes, reaching into the cabinet so that he could pull down his tin of coffee grounds.

"Uh-uh," Maes said suddenly, taking the tin from him. "The last thing you need right now is coffee, especially if you're nauseous."

Roy opened his mouth to give a groggy protest, but Maes silenced him with a look and put the coffee tin back in the cabinet. If it were any other person in the world who was trying to keep Roy from his precious coffee they would immediately pay for such an atrocity via having their faces burned off, but somehow Maes managed to get away with it. Sometimes Roy just couldn't argue with him—especially not now, when he was weak, in pain, and scarcely able to keep his eyes open. Maes just had that effect on people sometimes... and he was also probably right. So, instead of launching into a tirade about how he really, _really_ wanted—nay, _needed_—some goddamned coffee, he just gave a loud sigh and pouted.

"Go sit down, I'll make you tea," Maes offered after a moment, eyeing him. He still looked worried, but was trying not to show it. Roy vaguely wondered how bad he looked, then shrugged it off and took a seat at the table, pulling the chair out so that he could still see Edward; he was entirely too tired to be thinking about his appearance. He watched Maes finish filling Ed's bowl and carefully set it on the floor. The two men watched Ed glance over at the food, consider his options for a moment, then turn away from it again dispassionately.

Maes' frown deepened.

"He's been laying there since before I went home," he told Roy unhappily. "He slept in there with you for a bit after I gave him his meds, but then he came out here and hid under the table."

"Hm," Roy mused, pinching the bridge of his nose in the attempt to lessen his headache a little, "How long were you gone?"

"Not long. An hour, maybe. Gracia just wanted me to bring you the soup. I figured it was okay to leave you two alone for a bit since Ed wasn't really moving around much and you were still snoring."

"I don't snore!"

"He snores, doesn't he?" Maes asked Edward, smiling.

Ed, startled from his primitive thoughts by the sudden question, looked up at Maes blankly.

"_...Snore?_" he asked, not understanding the word. His voice was harsh and raw and unspeakably tired-sounding.

"...Nevermind," Maes said with a quiet sadness, all humor gone as he turned back to the stove and lit a fire under the tea kettle.

Roy chewed his lip and looked down at Edward for a moment. Then he got up from his chair and lowered himself onto the floor, kneeling beside the table. "Come here, Edward. Let me have a look at you."

Ed didn't budge. He looked over at Roy without raising his head then closed his eyes again, deliberately ignoring him. Roy squared his jaw. "_Now_, Fullmetal."

At this Ed finally raised his head but still made no move to actually get up. "_Why?_" he asked after a beat, his voice both wary and defiant. The thin edge of fear in his warped voice was like a blade that sliced into Roy deftly and he immediately lightened his tone,

"...I just want to take a look at you. I won't hurt you; I promise."

Ed still didn't look convinced but then he took a breath and tried to get his feet under him. He pushed himself upright with a restrained grunt of discomfort as he put his stiff shoulders to work, but the task of getting his back legs to hold his weight seemed to be much more difficult. He staggered and nearly collapsed back onto the floor, the wobbling of his unsteady legs making him look like a newborn colt learning how to walk.

The chimera steadied himself and limped over to Roy making a sharp whimpering sound in the back of his throat with every slow step. Roy winced at the pained sound empathetically, trying to pay attention to the way that Ed was moving, looking for any changes to his skeletal structure.

As much of a fiasco as the transmutation had been, Roy had no doubt in his mind that it had _worked_ on some level. He hadn't really had his head about him right after he'd completed the transmutation so he hadn't looked for any signs of change in Edward's contorted body then. Now, though, he was more rested—albeit in more pain, as well—and he could see that the transmutation had indeed had an effect.

As Ed moved closer, Roy could see that his long, lupine muzzle had shortened a bit. His skull certainly didn't resemble anything human yet, but there was a marked difference in his jaw structure. His shoulders, too, had morphed into something vaguely more human; they were less hunched and more linear, his collarbone stretching to force his shoulders apart and widen his ribcage. While this visual sign of progress was deeply heartening to see, it was also very frightening. God, no wonder Ed was whimpering and had no interest in food... he must be in so much pain in the aftermath of having his bones and muscles stretched and molded far past what they were ever meant to withstand.

Ed came to a stop in front of Roy and his back legs finally gave out. He sat back on his haunches hard with a gasping yelp and closed his eyes tightly against the pain in his hips. Roy's stomach twisted with pity and he looked up at Maes. The man had been watching them interact silently, his face both sad and tired.

"I think we should give him more of his pain pills," Roy opined softly, "Toss them to me, will you?"

Maes wordlessly grabbed the rattling bottle of pills from the cabinet and gave them to him. Ed grimaced when he saw the pills, but didn't say anything. He knew that they would make him feel better, even if he didn't want to take them. Roy opened the bottle and shook one out into his hand, then offered it to the boy silently. Edward hesitated only a moment, then opened his jaws obediently and Roy put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and swallowed it with a shudder.

"_Tastes bad_..." Ed complained quietly after he'd forced the acrid capsule down his gullet.

"I know, but you'll feel better soon," Roy told him gently, daring to reach forward and put a hesitant hand against the side of his head, examining the lines of stitches above his brow. They looked pretty good, but the corner of one gash appeared to have been torn open by the transmutation. Roy should probably clean it and bandage it again before he went back to bed.

Edward leaned into Roy's soft touch and closed his eyes again with a deep sigh. "...Are you still mad at me?" Roy asked him suddenly, remembering the kid's reluctance to be touched by him when they were down in the basement.

Ed paused for a beat, then shook his head. "_No. Not bad like them, not you... sorry, sorry..._" he apologized, nuzzling Roy's hand.

"Don't be sorry. You had every right to be frightened and upset," Roy said, pulling away from Edward's loving contact uncomfortably. "But I'm glad that you understand that I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"_Wasn't trying to_..." he rasped in sincere agreement, bowing his shaggy head.

Some of the guilt in Roy's breast dissipated, relieved by Edward's unspoken forgiveness and he smiled warmly in spite of himself. Ed's tail gave a weak little thump in reply, but then he winced as even that small movement made his aching body twinge.

"...It won't hurt this badly next time, I promise," Roy assured him, resisting the urge to reach out to him again. "It will be better. I'll fix it."

Edward didn't say anything to that but a brief flash of fear crossed his face. Clearly, the idea of "next time" was not something that he wanted to think about, no matter how much Roy promised him that it wouldn't be as bad as the first time.

"You aren't thinking of trying it again tonight, are you?" Maes asked severely from his post beside the stove as he waited for the water in the kettle to boil.

"No. No way," Roy hastened to assure him, looking up. "Probably not even as soon as tomorrow night. I want to give Ed's body some time to adjust and I... I really don't think I'll be physically capable for a while..." he trailed off and rubbed at his temple as his headache made itself known again, pounding against the backs of his eyes. "That transmutation really did a number on me. My head is _killing_ me."

"_You... hurt, too?_" Ed asked, leaning forward and looking up into his face worriedly. Roy balked a little, taken off-guard by the kid's abrupt concern.

"It... It's not really that bad," he lied, trying to downplay his pain as best he could in spite of the fact that he could barely see straight. The last thing he wanted was the kid's pity. Ed had enough to worry about as it was.

"_Have pills_," Ed suggested, looking at the bottle that was still in Roy's hand, "_Feel better, yes?_"

"No, I'm fine. It's just a headache. It'll go away on its own after a while."

"_Have pills_," he insisted sternly.

"You'd better listen to him, Roy," Maes said with an amused chuckle, "It's only fair, since you made him take them."

Roy rolled his eyes and looked down at the bottle, reading the off-white label. It was a very mild form of codeine, but that was still better than the aspirin that he had planned on taking. "I guess it couldn't hurt," he shrugged and downed one of the white pills dry. Ed was right; they did taste bad.

"_Very good_," Edward praised.

"...Very good," Roy echoed with a wry smirk, playing along with this sudden role-reversal. Ed seemed pleased with the response, though. He scooted closer to Roy and lowered himself down onto the floor, shifting his weight off of his sore front legs and shoulders and sprawling out. He rested his head against Roy's knee, let out a long, tired sigh and closed his eyes.

From the other side of the kitchen, Maes made a low crooning sound. Roy looked up to see him smiling down at them fondly.

"What?" Roy asked sharply, unnerved by the look on his face.

"Nothing," he grinned, "You two are just incredibly cute."

"Oh yes, _very_ cute," Roy spat, irritated and feeling a little awkward, "A whimpering chimera and a half-dead alchemist popping painkillers: it's fucking adorable."

"_Fucking adorable.._."

Roy glared downward, "Don't swear, Edward."

The chimera turned his head to look up at his superior and, with a very familiar kind of petulance, said, "_Fuck, fuck, fuck_."

Maes laughed out loud. "HA! Yep, he's still Ed..." he chortled, taking the kettle off of the stove as it began to whistle.

Roy made a face at him, but inwardly he was pleased. He _was_ still Ed and he was expressing himself more and more, reminding them that even if he looked like a malformed dog, he was still the Fullmetal Alchemist. He was also talking more than usual now in the wake of the transmutation; the brief conversation that he and Roy had just had was just about the most he'd ever said at one time since his rescue.

"Do you remember my name yet?" Roy asked hopefully, thinking that the transmutation might have altered more than just his bone structure and had restored some of his broken mind.

"_No_," he said automatically, still looking a little annoyed that he'd been told not to swear. The tiny hope that had raised itself in Roy flagged again. Well, he supposed it was too soon to expect much from him mentally. They still had a long way to go... this had only been the first transmutation, after all... "_Wait..._" Ed continued suddenly, raising his head a little.

"What?"

"_Name... Colonel_."

Roy drew in a sharp breath and Maes froze halfway through pouring hot water into a mug. They exchanged a brief, excited glance, then Roy sobered himself and cleared his throat.

"Colonel _what_? Do you know?" he asked, pushing for just a little bit more from the kid.

"_Colonel..._" Edward mumbled, thinking hard. "_Colonel... Bastard?_"

Maes clapped his hand over his mouth, only barely managing to choke back the bark of laughter that suddenly erupted from him. He turned away from them, his shoulders quaking with silent giggles that he was frantically trying to stifle. Roy bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep from joining in and fought to keep a straight face.

"_...That's wrong...?_" Edward asked, looking both disappointed and embarrassed as he glanced over at Maes' snickering form.

"It's very close," Roy said encouragingly, "It's not my name, but it's what you've always called me... so I guess it'll do."

Edward frowned gently, obviously not getting why it was funny. He leaned his head against Roy's knee again, muttering to himself. Roy almost felt bad for him, but he was too busy grinning like an idiot to try and comfort him.

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He'd been putting it off for too long. He had searched and searched. He had taken the lead to the very end, stretching it as far as it would go, desperate to find _something_ that might tell him where his brother was. But no... he had just been deluding himself. The lead had been weak anyway. He had known before even beginning to follow it that it would probably lead to nothing. Even Mustang had told him not to go. Mustang had wanted him to stay in Central and help him go over clues, but Alphonse just couldn't sit and do nothing when his brother was still out there somewhere...

Al sighed. He was sitting on a crate beside a dirt road in the outskirts of some downtrodden southern town that he couldn't even remember the name of, his great metal head bent under the dire weight of defeat. He had to give up. He was out of ideas and he was out of places to search. He was lost now. He'd been lost for months, really, but he'd been able to keep that aimless horror at bay by grasping at straws and clinging to hope, letting it drive him to every corner of Amestris. But now there was nowhere else to go and no more leads. He had failed to find his brother.

Again.

He just had to get back to Central and hope that Mustang's searching had turned up something. Alphonse toyed with the hem of his waistcloth anxiously. He really didn't want to run back to Mustang empty-handed.

Again.

Especially when Mustang hadn't wanted him to leave in the first place. Al's current lead had fallen cold days ago, but he hadn't been able to muster the courage to call the colonel and tell him yet. He just continued to wander, hoping against hope that he would just stumble upon something useful. He didn't of course, but he'd always been prone to wishful thinking and desperation had heightened that inclination exponentially. Now, though, he was ready to admit defeat. He had to go back. There was nothing here for him.

Again.

He gave another sigh and stood, his stiff joints groaning loudly in the silent, empty evening. Al had forgotten how dry and dusty it got this far south. He was going to have to find a way to oil the joints in his armor soon or else it would take him forever to make his way back to Mustang and his staff. It was getting hard for him to walk and his current location was so far out in the country that there weren't even any trains nearby. As it was, he probably wouldn't be able to get back to Central for at least a week. Well, he could at least find a telephone and give the colonel an update... not that he really had much to say.

He trudged down the road, feeling more alone than he'd ever felt in his young life, his only company the metallic shrieking of his joints, the eerie sound reminding him of the lamentations of starving dogs howling in the distance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

((A.N.: sorry that this took so long.))


	8. Gently Granted Request

Roy and Edward both went back to bed soon after taking the painkillers. Neither of them had seemed very interested in the soup that Gracia had made for them, but Maes wasn't too put out by that. They were both in unspeakable pain, after all... especially poor little Edward. Maes supposed that having one's bones and insides re-shaped is not encouragement for a healthy appetite, so he just put the soup back in the container that Gracia had provided and put it in Roy's icebox for later. Then he turned off the lights, exited though the front door, locked it, and drove home.

Maes hadn't really gotten a chance to spend much time with his family for the past several days, what with his searching that alchemy lab and making sure that Roy didn't kill himself—or Ed, for that matter. All he wanted to do was go home, give his daughter a kiss—for he had certainly missed the chance to tuck her in... it was already over an hour past her bedtime—and crawl into bed with his wife. He was exhausted both physically and emotionally by the events of the past few days.

As exhausted as he was, though, the hope in him was beginning to shine more brightly. Edward was getting better. _Already_ he was showing signs of healing and Maes' heart leapt to see it. True, Ed's cure was going to be a long, agonizing process... but it was _working_! He even looked different. He was, of course, nowhere near human... but at least he was a little less dog, both in body and mind. The barely-restrained joy that had graced Roy's face when Ed had spoken his name had been a beautiful thing and—while it wasn't _really_ Roy's name, it did prove that something within this chimera-creature had backed off a little and allowed Edward to take a step forward.

Maes had to admit that his faith in Roy's ability to change Ed back had been waning, but now it soared to new heights. Roy could do this. He could really make this right again. The finish line was in sight now and, though it was still far off in the distance and partially obscured by the shadow of uncertainty, it was getting closer and clearer by the hour. How could Maes have ever doubted Roy? He was one of the greatest alchemists alive, even if he did tend to get a little carried away, swept up in passion for his chosen art form... But he knew what he was doing...

No matter how much he told himself that Roy had everything in control though, Maes could not shake this deep feeling of reservation. Seeing Roy transmute Ed had been terrifying. Rarely had Maes seen Roy do any alchemy more intense than a few perfectly aimed jets of fire and that display of godlike power in the basement had been more than a little disturbing. Roy had looked like a demon in that electric light, something unspeakable and strange... just thinking about it sent shivers down Maes' spine.

The lieutenant colonel shook his head as he climbed out of his car and started across his front lawn. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maes didn't really understand alchemy and it even frightened him a little... He would most certainly keep a watchful eye on both Roy and Ed until this was all over... but for the time being, perhaps he should just keep his reservations to himself.

Maes slid the key into the lock and opened the door as quietly as he could in case Gracia had gone to bed already. When he stepped inside he noted that all the lights were off and sighed. Damn. He'd been hoping that Gracia was still awake...

Glumly, he hung up his coat and put his keys on the table next to the door before heading back toward the bedroom. In the hallway he nearly tripped on one of Elysia's toys in the darkness but managed to catch himself before he could fall over. He cursed under his breath and gently pushed the thing back into the half-open doorway of Elysia's bedroom with the toe of his boot. He poked his head into the room and smiled fondly. She was fast asleep. Not wanting to wake her, Maes blew her a kiss from the doorway and headed toward his own bedroom.

Gracia was curled up under the blankets, her dim shape rising and falling with breath. Maes sighed again and kicked his shoes off. Well, maybe he'd make a point to spend the morning with her and Elysia tomorrow and not worry about work, Roy, or Ed for a little while. He undressed quietly, thinking that maybe tomorrow he could take his wife and daughter to the park for a while if it wasn't too cold. Either way, he planned to make up for his recent absences at home.

Maes lifted a corner of the blanket and slid into bed, pressing himself against Gracia's back gently so as not to wake her. He draped one arm across her shoulders and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her soft, natural scent.

"You know," a voice said suddenly, "My husband is away right now, but I don't think he'd be too crazy about the idea of a strange man sharing a bed with his wife."

Maes frowned and pulled away a little as Gracia rolled over to face him. She smiled up at him lazily, her hair tousled by sleep and her eyelids adorably heavy. Even half awake with hair in disarray, Gracia was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"...Yeah, I know that I haven't been around a lot lately and I'm sorry," Maes told her unhappily, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face, "But I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Gracia chuckled and pushed herself up onto her elbows, "I'm just teasing you, darling. Don't be so sensitive. I understand that you have a lot on your plate right now, don't feel bad about it." She craned her neck up and gave him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Maes' heart swelled at the loving contact and he pulled her into his arms again contentedly.

"You're so good to me, Gracia," he mumbled, cuddling up against her. He felt her smile in silent reply and return the embrace. The two of them fell quiet then, eyes closed as they waited for sleep to overtake them.

"So, how are our boys doing?" Gracia asked suddenly, keeping her tone light even though Maes could hear the soft undercurrent of worry in her voice. Maes wasn't really allowed to disclose much about Ed and the state that he was in since his current chimeraism was not open to the public... but he had told her that the kid wasn't doing too great and that Roy had exhausted himself to the point of collapse earlier in the day.

"A little better," he said winding his arms around her even more tightly. "Roy finally woke up with a bad headache, but he seems okay. Both of them went back to bed before I left. Neither of them had much of a mind for food, though..."

"That's all right," she yawned, "Perhaps tomorrow they'll want it, the poor dears."

"I'm sure they will. We both know how much Roy loves your cooking..." Maes smiled warmly, appreciating her concern. She loved those two almost as much as Maes himself did and couldn't help but worry for them. That fact alone made him love her even more.

"...And still no sign of Alphonse?"

"No. None."

Gracia went quiet for a moment then, "Don't take this the wrong way, because I do love Roy with all my heart... but do you really think that he's the best candidate to be taking care of Edward until Alphonse gets back? They don't seem to get along very well and if Ed is injured and needs someone to care for him..."

"They're fine," Maes assured her quickly, "They don't really argue much. Ed was feeling a bit better today so they bickered a little... but, considering what bad shape Ed has been in, Roy and I are both taking that as a good sign..."

"...How bad off is Ed really?" she asked quietly after a brief, unsettled pause.

"It's bad, sweetheart," Maes replied honestly, his throat constricting a little, "But he's improving."

"Could he die?"

"It's... it's still a possibility."

Gracia seemed as if about to ask more, but then she held her peace. She knew that Maes wasn't supposed to divulge much information, but she also knew that if she pressed him he would bust wide open and tell her everything. Not wanting to put him in that position, Gracia didn't ask anything else and Maes silently thanked her for that.

"He's in good hands though, really," Maes tried to console her, "I think that Roy is the best person in the world to be looking after him right now, as weird as that sounds." He stopped for a moment, then chuckled, "Roy's actually getting downright affectionate with the kid... it's kind of funny to see."

Gracia raised her head a little and smirked, "Roy? Affectionate? Are we talking about the same person?"

Maes laughed at his wife's playful incredulity. "Yeah. It looks to me like Ed has awakened a paternal streak in Roy that no one knew existed... He really worries about that kid. They even sleep in the same bed."

"That's..." Gracia began with a startled smile, searching for an adequate word, "...incredibly cute."

"That's what I said! Then Roy got mad at me for saying it."

Gracia giggled, pressing her face against Maes' shoulder, "Now _that_ sounds more like Roy..."

Maes grinned and closed his eyes again as Gracia snuggled a little closer. Hearing her laugh was like a balm that soothed his worry. "Roy'll be able to take care of Ed, though. They've had a shaky start, but things are beginning to look up."

"If Roy is taking care of Edward, then who will take care of Roy?" Gracia teased, "He doesn't seem capable of caring for two people at once."

"True..." Maes joked back sleepily, "I suppose that I'll have to take care of him."

"And then who will take care of you?"

"I don't need anyone to take care of me."

"Oh, lies," she accused playfully, "But don't fret, _I'll_ take care of you."

"But then who will take care of _you_?"

"I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

Maes laughed again quietly. That was certainly true. Gracia was thoughtful and sweet... but she was also steady as a rock and tough as nails when she wanted to be. She probably was the one person in his life who really didn't need anyone to take care of her.

Comforted a little by that thought Maes finally let himself drift off to sleep, savoring the feel of his wife's breath against his neck.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roy's brow furrowed and he opened his eyes to the grating, scratching noises that were emanating from the roof above him.

"..._Wha' that?_" Edward asked groggily, raising his head a little at the noise. Only then did Roy realize that he had wrapped himself around the boy in his sleep, winding his arms around him and holding his warm, furry body close to his chest. Roy let go immediately and pushed himself away a little.

"It's just the damn squirrels messing around on the roof," Roy said, rolling away from him to face the window. Outside, the sun was just about to start rising, casting the twilit sky in a dull blue-grey, almost greenish hue.

"_Skuh-werls?_"

Roy smirked quietly to himself, "Yes, 'skuh-werls.' They're loud, I know. Just try to ignore it and go back to sleep."

Ed mumbled something that Roy couldn't quite understand and settled himself back down onto the bed, shifting so that his back was pressed firmly against Roy's. Once again Roy was struck by Edward's unconscious aura of taboo and he bit back a shudder, skin crawling.

It didn't take long for Edward to drift back to sleep but Roy found himself unable to follow suit. He did attempt to find sleep again for awhile, doing his best to ignore the squirrels' racket as the sky outside warmed from shades of grey to shades of pink and orange, but after an hour or so he conceded that it was a lost cause and quietly slipped out of bed so as not to wake the slumbering boy.

He wandered into the kitchen and went about making himself a pot of coffee since Maes wasn't around to tell him not to. He was a little queasy and still had a headache, but those mild discomforts were nowhere near as bad as they had been last night. He should probably eat something. He felt a little shaky and both his lingering headache and nausea could be attributed to the fact that he hadn't eaten at all yesterday... or the day before, for that matter.

Roy sighed harshly to himself, irrationally annoyed with his body's need for nourishment. Roy was not a huge fan of food; if he could have lived entirely off of good coffee and top-shelf scotch, he would have. Perhaps it came from living alone most of his life, this disinclination toward food. He saw dining as a social activity and often grabbed lunch with Maes while at work, but more often than not that would be his only meal in a day. Roy didn't mind—and often even enjoyed—dining out with other people, but he hated cooking for himself at home. He was a terrible cook for starters, and so typically sustained himself on dry wheat toast with his coffee in the mornings and either a simple pasta dish or nothing at all in the evenings. It wasn't that Roy disliked eating _per se_, he was just apathetic about it; it was like a chore that he'd rather not do.

Roy glanced over at his icebox thoughtfully. Maes had put the soup that Gracia had made in there last night so that Roy and Ed could have it today. Roy had to admit that he did have a fondness for Gracia' cooking in spite of his general disinterest in food. Still, as appealing at Gracia's excellent cooking was, Roy's stomach rebelled at the thought of eating and he decided to just stick to coffee for now. He should probably force himself to eat later, but at the moment he really didn't have that much willpower.

The telephone sitting on the end table next to the couch rang cheerfully and Roy had the abrupt urge to smash it as the shrill noise intensified his headache. Roy grimaced, then slumped over to the loud machine and lifted the receiver hurriedly so that the ringing didn't wake Edward.

"Mustang," Roy said curtly into the phone, hoping that it wasn't HQ demanding a progress report on Edward's case. Roy would send in a written report eventually... he just hadn't gotten around to writing it yet.

"_Colonel!_" a familiar voice on the other end of the line squeaked, "_I called the office a-and they said that you found Brother but they couldn't give me much information but they said he was hurt and they told me to call you at home and—_"

"Alphonse!" Roy barked in reply, talking over him, "Where the hell have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you! Why didn't you call in sooner?"

"_I was still looking for him until last night and then I couldn't find a phone until this morning! Is he okay? Is he even still alive? Please, sir, no one at the office would tell me anything..._"

Alphonse's voice was high and rapid, sounding as if it was bordering on hysterical. Roy's chest tightened. The colonel had known that he would most likely be the one to have to tell Al what had happened to his brother, but suddenly he just didn't know what to say. Roy hesitated, composing his thoughts into something that he could articulate to Al. Al, however, misread Roy's hesitation.

"_Oh..._" Al moaned sickly, his voice barely above a whisper, "_Oh... he's dead, isn't he?_"

"No, he's alive," Roy assured quickly, seating himself on the couch and rubbing his face with one hand, "He's just..." he hesitated again, searching for a better way to say it. But then he just shook his head and told it like it was, "He's a chimera, Alphonse."

The other end of the phone line went dead silent and for several beats. Roy didn't say anything and just let the boy absorb his terrible words for a moment. Then, finally, _"...H-how bad... I mean, how severe is...?_"

"Severe," he answered bluntly, but not without regret, "He's mostly dog."

There was another long, heartbreaking pause from Alphonse. "_I..._" he began after a moment, but then broke off as a sharp, abrupt sob interrupted whatever he was about to say. The line went silent again, no doubt because Al was fighting to keep his composure on the other end. Roy could just imagine him hunched in a telephone booth outside of some rustic town... just a frightened child, grieving and alone in the early hours of morning.

"...I'm so sorry, Alphonse," Roy said finally, his own throat tightening. "I'm doing everything in my power to help him and he's already showing signs of improvement..."

"_Re... really? You can f-fix him?"_ The desperation in Al's voice was heart wrenching.

"I can try."

"_Tucker said that it was i-impossible to split chimeras... like... like with Nina..._"

"It _is_ impossible," Roy agreed quietly, "I'm not really splitting them in the way that you're thinking..."

When Roy had first set himself to studying Tucker's notes, splitting Edward from the dog had been his immediate goal. Once he started reading about chimera reversal, though, it soon became clear that this was not a feasible plan. Tucker was right: a chimera could not be split without killing both halves of the beast and, potentially, the alchemist as well. It would take entirely too much energy to pull the chimera apart into two separate beings and so, unfortunately, Edward's dog half would have to be sacrificed to the transmutation. Edward's human body would simply absorb it, breaking it down and converting it into energy that would act as an agent to keep Ed's body from disintegrating completely as his muscles were torn and his bones broken and re-shaped. Basically, the dog was simply acting as a glue that would hold Ed's twisted body together during the transmutations. It was gruesome to think about, but it was the only way that Roy knew to make Ed whole again.

"...I'll explain more when you get here," Roy finished lamely, not wanting to get into the gritty details over the phone, "Where are you?"

"_I'm not sure exactly_," Al sniffed, still struggling to get a grip on his emotions, "_Probably six or seven days southeast of Central._"

"Get back here as soon as you can, then. I'd like your help on the transmutations... if you're comfortable with that. It's not pleasant."

"_No, I want to help. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."_

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

Yet another silence reigned as Roy tried to think of something else to say. Roy knew how to deal with Edward—well, Edward in his human form, anyway—but Alphonse was a different story. Al was much gentler with a softer heart that was easily broken and Roy had never been good at comforting people. He felt that he should probably say something heartening to the boy, but had no idea what and so just sat there dumbly until Al finally spoke.

"_...How is he otherwise...?_" he asked tentatively,_ "Lieutenant Breda said that he was hurt._"

"He's doing decently. Better than he was a couple days ago. He has some cuts and scrapes and he... he's pretty emaciated. But the ve—_doctor _says that he'll be fine."

"_Is he there? Can I talk to him?_"

"He's asleep right now. And... and I really don't think you'd be able to understand him over the phone. His words aren't very coherent most of the time. He's improving, but it's still hard to understand him, sometimes. He doesn't really speak in complete sentences yet."

"_...Oh._"

Roy clenched his jaw wordlessly.

"_I guess... I guess I should get going, then_," Alphonse rasped, "_It'll take me all day to get to the nearest functioning train-station_..."

"Then I'll see you when you get here."

"_Okay." He paused, then, "...Colonel?_"

"Yes?"

"_Can I call again tomorrow_?"

"...Of course, Al."

And with that gently granted request, they said their goodbyes.

Roy sat back on the couch, leaning his head against the plush backrest and staring up at the ceiling. That had been harder than he'd expected it to be. Not that he'd expected it to be easy... He exhaled a long breath and rubbed at his temples, wishing in vain that none of this had ever happened. He wished that Ed and Al could be together right now—both of them whole and well—roaming the country as they always did...

He felt the hot sting of tears forming in his eyes and quickly stifled them, a little startled by his own sudden emotion. Maybe he was just tired. Yeah. That's it. He was just tired...

"_Ed?_"

Roy jumped a little, then furtively wiped his eyes before turning to look at Ed over the back of the couch. His shoulders were hunched and stiff and his long face was exhausted-looking, but he didn't look too bad this morning.

"Hey, kid..." Roy greeted but then his throat constricted again without warning and he had to clench his jaw hard to keep the tears at bay.

"_...Is okay_?" Ed asked, watching Roy with sudden concern, no doubt because he had caught a flash the barely-concealable grief that had slammed into his caretaker.

"Yes. Fine," Roy said quickly, clearing his throat and getting to his feet. He offered Ed a soft smile and the kid returned it, his concern already forgotten. "Are you hungry?"

Ed hesitated for a moment as if not sure how to answer the question. He was probably ravenous from not eating much yesterday and from the energy-drain of the transmutation... but, like Roy, he was probably still a little queasy as well, meaning that he was hungry, but didn't find the thought of actually eating very appealing.

Roy smirked down at him, "Yeah... I know how you feel."

Edward tilted his head to the side, tail waving slowly.

"Tell you what," Roy continued diplomatically as he moved into the kitchen, "I'll eat if you eat, okay? We both have to do it anyway, so we might as well suffer together, right?"

"_...Right?_" Ed echoed, clearly having trouble following Roy's train of thought. Roy sighed at that and went about warming up the soup anyway. They both needed to eat, even if they didn't want to. He put the soup in a pot and set it on the stove, then poured himself a cup of coffee and seated himself at the table. Unsurprisingly, Ed curled up on the floor next to his feet. He yawned hugely and rested his chin on his paws, eyes closed.

"Go back to bed if you're tired, Edward," Roy told him after a moment, "It's probably good for you."

"_Loud skuh-werls_," Ed muttered irritably, briefly opening one eye to give Roy an exasperated look.

Roy laughed, sympathizing completely.


	9. Pathos and Logos

After a less than enjoyable breakfast during which both Roy and Edward had to force themselves to do more than vaguely pick at the food in front of them, Roy let Ed out into the small backyard and retired to the front room to peruse his notes again. Even if he didn't do any actual transmutations with Ed today, Roy wanted to re-evaluate all of the information that he'd collected now that he was more rested. Perhaps he'd even redraw the circle down in the basement later if he felt up to it.

This time, everything would be perfect... he would make _damn_ sure of that. No mistakes this time. The allotted margin for error was a very thin line, and that line had almost been irrevocably crossed because of Roy's carelessness yesterday.

Roy picked up his messy stack of notes along with Ed's file from the lab and started sorting everything out lazily, taking his time. He had made some great headway and could afford to be more leisurely with his research now that he more-or-less knew what he was doing. Besides, Maes would absolutely _slaughter_ him if he started rushing around so recklessly again. In the wake of chaos and error, it is always much more appealing to tread carefully... and there had certainly been bountiful error as of late.

The notes did seem logical though, even to his more rested, more critical eye. He saw no mistakes in his theorems other than the grossly enlarged transmutation circle. God, what had he been _thinking_?

But then he sighed. No, he knew what he'd been thinking yesterday... he'd been thinking that a bigger circle would yield bigger results, ergo: a swifter change in Edward's body, ergo: a swifter recovery for Edward in whole. He had just wanted to get this over with. He had wanted to save Ed from his nightmare and do it as quickly as possible. Roy had been thinking with his heart rather than his head. Exhaustion had intensified his emotions regarding Ed's plight and emotion had clouded his judgment. His _pathos_ had overrun his _logos_, a sly combination that meant instant failure for Roy. He needed to stay completely logical and push his personal feelings aside if he was going to make this work.

Maybe Roy should insist that Ed sleep somewhere other than the bed... If Roy was to approach this emotionlessly, then he needed to separate himself from the boy a little. He was getting too attached to him; his brief, tearful moment of weakness after talking to Alphonse this morning could attest to that. And then what if it turned out that Ed really couldn't be fixed? It was still a very real—though certainly not very probable—possibility that the chimera might still need to be euthanized and if that was the case then would Roy be able to perform the act if he continued to allow his emotions to rule him? Of course not.

Roy squared his jaw and looked up toward the door to the backyard. Edward was lying on the small porch just outside the door, his long body stretched out under the warm rays of the morning sun. Lying on his side as he was, the sun highlighted his tawny fur and further exaggerated the shadowy, boney dips between his ribs and vertebrae that starvation had gifted him with. Roy softened a little at the sight and turned back to his notes, chest tight.

...But there was no way that Roy was going to be able to ignore his emotions completely... Well, he probably _could_—at least for a while—but Edward _needed_ emotional contact right now and to rob him of that comfort would be too cruel.

Roy scowled and rubbed at his throbbing temple. Damn it, Maes was a better person to be taking care of this lovey-dovey shit. It wasn't in Roy's nature to be affectionate and Ed was begging for affection almost constantly. Roy gave it to him when he knew how, but it still made him uncomfortable on multiple levels. Giving affection was a little awkward for Roy, but knowing that he was giving it to _the Fullmetal Alchemist_ of all people was disturbing—especially this dumbed-down, mutated version of the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Not that Roy didn't care for Edward, because he most certainly _did_. He loved Ed and Al both more that he would ever be willing to admit aloud. But still, the affection that Roy felt obligated to exchange with this creature was just..._ sick_. Not being affectionate with Edward, however, seemed even more twisted. He _needed_ the affection... he wanted it so badly...

Roy rubbed at his temple again and shut his eyes tightly against his fading headache. Maybe he just shouldn't think about it now. He had other matters to attend to anyway.

Satisfied with his notes, Roy set them aside and opened Ed's lab file. He'd gone over the technical details of the actual transmutation that had been preformed on Ed so many times that he could recite the process verbatim, but he hadn't really done more than glance at the rest of the file. It hadn't been important to his high-strung, action-driven mindset yesterday to read about the rest of the experiment, so he had only vaguely glossed over it for any pertinent information before moving on. Now, though, he was a little more at ease and knew that he should probably glean as much information about Edward's situation as he could while he had some down-time. The military would most likely want some information on Fullmetal's imprisonment when the colonel finally sent in his report and not just the details of his transformation.

Most of the file seemed pretty generic: just information on Edward's physical wellbeing, blood-test results, behavioral studies, et cetera. It was all very thorough. It looked as if they had done every single physical test that they could think of... they had even done a semen-count on him, which Roy found both strange and unsettling. What possible purpose could documenting Ed's fertility serve? As he continued to read though, his unspoken question began to answer itself and his stomach turned violently, threatening to disgorge the soup that he'd just forced himself to eat.

No...

Convinced that he'd misread something, he backtracked and read the page over again because surely... _surely_ this couldn't mean what he thought that it meant. He must have interpreted something wrong... there was no way that this could be true.

And so he read the passage again... and again... and again, his disbelieving eyes devouring the words before him. Each time he read it though, his shocked mind came up with the same scenario until he finally made himself believe the horrors written on the page.

Oh... _God_...

The phone chose that moment to ring but it took Roy a few beats to register the sound. He just stared at the phone numbly, mind reeling, then reached out and answered it.

"Mustang," he said dully.

"_Hey Roy, it's me,_" Maes said on the other end, "_I was just calling to let you know that I probably won't be over today. I begged the morning off of work so I'm taking the girls to the park, but I still have to go in to the office this evening_."

"...Yeah. That's fine. Whatever," Roy said distantly, not really listening. His thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

There was a pause at the other end of the phone-line, but then: "_...You sound distracted. Is everything okay? Is Ed okay?_"

"What?" Roy blinked, "Oh. No. No, he's fine. I'm fine. I'm just... distracted."

"_That's what I just said, Roy_," Maes countered warily, starting to sound a little concerned. "_What's wrong?_"

Roy hesitated then cleared his throat. "How much of Ed's lab file did you read?"

"_Not a lot. Most of it didn't make any sense to me. Why?_"

"It's just..." Roy trailed off, reluctant to say it aloud, as if keeping this information to himself would make this grim detail about Ed's imprisonment any less true. Today seemed to be a popular day for hard telephone conversations. "...They were _breeding_ him, Maes..." he finished finally.

"..._What?_"

"They were BREEDING him. With the female chimera that was in the cage with him. With Twenty-Seven. That's what the experiment was. They wanted to see if chimeras would procreate."

The static silence that flooded out of the telephone receiver was deafening.

"_And... and did they?_" Maes asked in a horrified whisper after several unbearable beats.

"There were three pregnancies."

Silence.

"_So... are you telling me that Ed has... has PUPS somewhere out there?" _Maes demanded, sounding ill._ "Ed has CHILDREN...?_"

"_Dead_ children," Roy corrected him, consulting the file again dazedly. "The first two pregnancies miscarried. The third resulted in an unexpected premature birth and the file says that all of the pups died before any of the scientists even knew that they'd been born... They were all badly deformed and... _mutilated_."

"_Mutilated...? Did Ed and Twenty-Seven kill them...?"_

"It..." Roy stopped and cleared his throat, "It doesn't say it explicitly, but..."

"_My God..._"

"The anarchists must have fled just after that, because there's nothing else in the file... The last entry in the log talks about acquiring a new female for the experiment because Number Twenty-Seven got sick after the last birth..."

"_She went away..._" said a low voice from behind Roy suddenly, the warped tones running an icy chill down his spine.

Roy spun to face Edward, his heart shuddering in his ribcage. Edward was crouched near the other end of the sofa, tail tucked as he looked up at Roy. His eyes were wide and haunted, startled as if he'd just been reminded of something that he'd forgotten, reminded of something that he would have given _anything_ not to remember. Roy held his breath and watched him, not knowing what to say.

_"Bad people went away... Twenty-Seven went away..._" Ed continued after a moment, brow furrowed and gaze distant, "_Everything went away..._"

He made a frail, sad little sound and slunk out of the room again, exiting into the open air of the backyard. Roy watched him go, frozen, unable to do anything other than stare at his retreating form in sick pity.

"_Roy? You still there?_"

"...Yeah. I'm here," he rasped into the phone when he'd regained his ability to speak. "Look, I have to go... I should talk to him."

"_Do you want me to come over? Because if you need me to, I can—_"

"No. Spend time with your family. I'll talk to you later."

Roy hung up and looked toward the back door, his hand over his mouth. He hesitated, thinking deeply, weighing his options. Then, cautiously, he got to his feet and went out into the yard, following Ed's departure.

The yard wasn't very big. Hardly a yard at all. It was roughly a twenty-five-foot by fifteen-foot patch of lawn with a few rose bushes and other plants lining the brick parameter. There was also a huge oak tree close to the house. The thing was probably ancient; it had been there way before Roy had moved in and would probably remain there long after Roy moved out again. The tree was gnarled and stately, partially hollowed out in places, which made it a prime nesting spot for squirrels. In fact, one of the small, grey-brown creatures was currently scurrying down the trunk curiously, its bright black eyes focused on Edward's huddled shape.

Edward was sitting in the shadow of the great tree, crouched among the roots. He was mumbling to himself quietly, his shaggy head swaying from side-to-side so that the ragged strands of his blond hair caught in the sunlight like spun gold.

"Ed?" Roy asked tentatively, coming to a halt a few feet away from him. Edward's stooped back stiffened in response.

"_She... gone. Went away_," the creature whispered, not even bothering to look up, "_Away, away. All away_."

"I know she's gone... And I'm sorry."

Edward drew in to himself a little further, limbs trembling, and didn't reply.

Roy had been prepared to deal with Ed's physical pain and he had gotten more than a passing glimpse at some of the psychological frailties that Ed had gained over his months of torture... but _this_ was something else entirely. Now, the pain was not completely his own. Now, he was grieving for a creature that had shared the same plight as him and had died because of it. He was mourning with a human heart, but his dog brain was struggling to make sense of this new kind of hurting.

Roy hadn't really thought much about the other chimera after her body had been taken back to HQ for identification and cremation. She had just been one of the many bodies found in that hellish place, some poor, faceless woman that had been contorted beyond recognition. To Ed, though, she had been so much more than that. She had been his fellow prisoner, a half-human beast that reflected his own suffering back to him. She had probably been his only friend in all that time... his anchor, his confidante in that dark pit, his only means of comfort... but then it had gone even deeper than that. They had been intimate with one another... She had been the mother of his _children_...

Bile rose in the back of Roy's throat and he had to swallow it back quickly. Disgust, rage, and profound sorrow inundated him, tearing at his insides, breaking him down slowly. What was Roy supposed to say to him? How could anything he said take away Ed's pain, pain that Roy couldn't even fully comprehend?

"Did you love her?" The question came to Roy's lips abruptly, unheeded, and he immediately felt like kicking himself for asking it. Such personal inquires had no place here; they were pointless and would probably just upset the boy further, but Roy hadn't been able to keep himself from asking it.

Edward slowly looked over at his superior, quietly analyzing the question before answering. He didn't really need to answer, though: his soulful, yellow eyes said everything that needed to be said.

"..._Don't know_..." he lied softly, looking away again.

Roy worked his jaw, understanding. Silence reigned between them, broken only by the chattering of the squirrels in the tree above. He wanted to ask the kid questions about the technical details of his transformation, thinking that if he could now remember these unhappy snippets of his imprisonment then perhaps he could recall something more helpful... but then he decided that now was not the time to ask him to remember anything more than he had to.

"_Were... not right. Screamed. Kept crying_," Edward began again after a moment, his voice low and misty as if he were speaking from the haze of a dream. "_Not right, not right_."

"What wasn't right?" Roy asked him warily, "What kept crying?"

"..._Were very small_."

Roy swallowed, a lead weight dropping into the pit of his stomach.

"Are you talking about... about your..." he trailed off. What should he call them? Offspring? Pups? _Children_? They hadn't been children, though... they had been malformed monstrosities, failed experiments, something so perverse that even Ed's animal brain had been repulsed by them.

"_Were so wrong. Bad. Everything bad. Screamed and cried, screamed and cried..._" Edward continued emotionlessly, rocking himself back and forth.

"...Did you kill them, Edward?" Roy pressed himself to ask finally, not really wanting to know. Ed's trembling intensified into a bone-deep, hopeless kind of quaking.

"_Ed_... _I_..." he forced out in a strained whimper, then hunched over and vomited onto the grass. His stomach purged itself violently and he moaned heart-wrenchingly between each heave, the low cry sounding like something halfway between a howl and a sob. He stopped vomiting after a moment but continued crying, the sound so twisted and hopeless that it was almost physically painful to hear.

Roy's vision blurred again at the sight and sound of this tortured boy and wanted nothing more at that moment than to hold him and make him feel safe. He resisted the urge only a moment, then gave in to his half-suppressed instincts and reached out to put a gentle hand on the boy's quivering shoulder. Ed, however, jerked away from his touch as if burned and cowered back against the rough bark of the tree.

"_Go_," he said in a very quiet voice, "_Go away_."

Roy drew his hand back a little, but didn't move. He probably shouldn't leave him alone... not with his mind in the dark place it was right now. Roy had seen firsthand what had happened the last time Ed had had such a soul-shattering revelation... the vivid stitches on Ed's brow spoke all too clearly of that, and the threat of another attempt was looming a little too close for comfort. And so Roy held his ground, kneeling close to the boy but not touching him.

"_...Go_," Ed told him again warningly.

"Just come inside with me," Roy tried to reason with him, "You can go back to bed if you want to..."

"_Said GO AWAY_."

"Come on, you must be tired. We're both tired."

"_GO!_"

"...No."

Edward stared at him for a long moment, and Roy returned his gaze uncertainly. Slowly, the light in Edward's eyes dimmed. The spark of newly regained human intelligence pulled back and retreated behind the dog's stupid animal mind, hiding in the haze of blissful, beastial ignorance where he would not have to feel these complex psychological pains. Roy's heart sank to witness the silent regression, and then sank even further as a low growl began to rumble deep in Edward's throat.

There was a flash of movement and then Roy was on his back, being pinned to the ground by Edward's surprisingly powerful front paws. The infuriated chimera leaned down over his prey, his bared teeth inches from Roy's face. Roy looked up at the creature in shock, seeing nothing of the boy he was trying to save in its wolfish eyes. It was ready to kill him. It _wanted_ to kill him, yearned for it. It was a wild and savage thing that felt nothing but hunger and rage.

"_Go_," it said again very quietly, that single word burning into Roy like a brand.

"...Fine. I'll give you a few minutes alone, if that's what you really want," Roy said, trying to sound unconcerned when in fact his insides were twisting with a dismal mélange of dread and sadness.

"_Want_," the thing confirmed with another deep growl, moving off of him. Roy sat up cautiously and got to his feet, watching the chimera, but it was no longer paying attention to him. It had moved to the other side of the tree, head bent, eyes glassy, its gaze turned inward on itself.

Grudgingly, Roy stepped away from him and went back into the house. His hands were shaking, but he quelled it by shoving his fists into his pockets. It must be from the adrenaline rush he'd just gotten from being so abruptly attacked... That was probably it.

He stood in the middle of his living room for a moment, suddenly lost, unsure of what to do with himself. His thoughts were flooded with bleak images, playing back all the information that had just been presented to him, but his mind was too jittery to organize any of it into a logical form that he could handle, and so he just shoved it all out of the way where he wouldn't have to think about it at all.

He didn't want to think about Edward. He needed a distraction.

He was halfway down the stairs to his basement before he'd even realized that he was heading in that direction. He looked down at the massive transmutation circle on the floor and studied it for a moment, then moved over to his desk and grabbed a piece of chalk from the cluttered surface.

He needed to occupy himself. He needed to keep himself busy.

He knelt down onto the floor and sketched out a transmutation circle, scarcely even paying attention to what he was doing. His hands were still shaking. He activated it and the stone pillars sucked themselves back down into the floor, obliterating the big transmutation circle that they'd been surrounding and giving Roy a blank surface so that he could start from scratch and create another, smaller circle.

He grabbed his supplies and threw himself into the task doggedly, focusing every part of himself into creating the transmutation circle. He made every line perfectly, every spiral and symbol the exact shape and size that it needed to be. He didn't want to think about anything outside of the circle as he worked. He tried to think only of proportion and spatial relation, of line quality and symmetry...

Ed had hidden behind the dog's mind to escape from his pain. Well, _this _was Roy's hiding place.

Occasionally though, an unwanted thought would cross his mind—a little voice that echoed up from the deep chasms of his brain, begging him to go back upstairs and check on Edward. _What if he tried to hurt himself again? _the voice sang chillingly, _What if he succeeded?_

Roy ignored it. Maybe some part of him _wanted_ Edward to kill himself. Maybe it would be better that way. He was dangerous now. A wild animal. Out of his mind and _suffering_. Maybe it should just end now, before anyone could entertain the false hope that he could ever be right again...

But then he shook off those melancholy thoughts, sickened by his own fatalism. No. They still had a good chance of getting him back. The transmutation had worked and it would continue to work until every aspect of the dog had been erased from him. He'd be fine. Roy would _make him_ fine.

Half an hour later, a sudden sound on the staircase pulled Roy from both his concentration and his dark musings. He looked up briefly and saw Edward making his way hesitantly down the stairs, then turned his attentions back to the circle. He drew his paintbrush across the floor carefully, pretending not to notice the chimera even as he peripherally watched him creep closer.

Ed came to a halt a few feet away from Roy and sat back on his haunches, watching him wordlessly for several uncomfortable beats.

"..._Colonel is mad_?" he asked into the silence of the basement, his desolate voice echoing in the chamber.

Roy froze, startled by the question but relieved that Ed was clearly more in control of himself now. "No, I'm not mad, Edward," he told him honestly.

"_Sorry... Ed is bad... sorry..."_

Roy bit the inside of his lip and went back to painting the circle, unable to look at him. "You were just upset. Don't worry about it."

"_Evil and bad_," he insisted, voice trembling, "_Kill babies_."

Roy's stomach lurched again and he spun around to face him, horrified, "Oh, no... No, Ed. Just... no. Don't think like that. You did the right thing. Really. They probably would have died anyway... and... and..."

Roy was babbling. He _knew_ that he was babbling, but he couldn't help it. Words had always come easily to Roy Mustang; he was the king of manipulation and could smooth talk his way out of anything... but why, then, did it seem as if he had lost all of his power of articulation since Ed's rescue? Why was it so hard to communicate now? Why wouldn't the right words come, especially now, when they were so desperately important?

"...I would have done the same thing, I think," Roy told him finally. The words felt lame and inadequate even as he said them, but they were true. Ed seemed to sense that and he closed his eyes tightly, head inclined.

"_Thank you_," he whispered.

"...Uh-huh," Roy responded awkwardly, turning back to the partially completed circle.

He started working again, trying to ignore both Edward and the tightness in his throat as the boy moved closer and settled himself at his side. Roy sighed and looked over at him, but Ed's eyes were on the circle, wide and wary.

"It won't be so bad next time," Roy assured him once again, glad for a chance to change the subject. "The circle is smaller now, see?"

"_See_," Ed agreed discontentedly. He looked only mildly soothed by that thought.

Roy smirked and reached over to tousle Ed's hair absently. Ed leaned into his touch in an apologetic way, a soft whine eeking from him. The colonel swallowed back a sudden stab of grief and lowered his eyes, not wanting to pull away from him, but still not entirely comfortable with the contact. Instead he stared down at Ed's front paws ineptly... and then was almost immediately distracted by something he hadn't noticed before.

Edward's left paw was distorted: something halfway between a hand and a paw. It had been changed a great deal by yesterday's transmutation, the digits beginning to resemble something like fingers... Ed's right paw, however, had not changed at all. It looked like a regular dog's paw. Roy wondered about that for a moment, then realized what was wrong and took a breath.

"You don't _have_ a right hand..." he stated in bewilderment, straightening.

Edward looked at him blankly for a moment then cocked one ear in a way that seemed almost sardonic. "_Know that_," he said, sounding amused.

"No, you don't understand..." Roy went on, brow furrowed. To be honest though, Roy didn't fully understand it, either.

Edward Elric was a double amputee, yet the creature before him now had all four limbs... meaning that two of those limbs were entirely _dog_. As Roy worked Ed through the transmutations, the dog part of him was going to disappear... yet looking at him now, the two limbs that the human Edward was missing remained unchanged by the alchemy. The dog's limbs had effectively _replaced_ Ed's arm and leg, but they were not responding to the kid's returning humanity and retained their animal shape.

"_Something is wrong_?" Ed asked guardedly, obviously not liking the way that Roy was looking at him.

Roy looked up at him. "I... I think we're going to have some left-over parts..." he said finally, unsettled.

Ed tilted his head to the side curiously, not understanding in the slightest.


	10. The Psychology of Roy Mustang

It was early evening and it was getting cold. The brisk autumnal wind smeared the blush-pink clouds across the darkening sky like wet paint and bit into Maes in spite of his heavy jacket. He shivered a little, but smiled nonetheless at the thought of approaching winter. Winter was his favorite season. He loved snow. He loved the way that the icicles hung from the rooftops, glistening in the blue morning light. He loved curling up on the couch with his wife and daughter, all three of them huddled together under a big wool blanket as they listened to the fire whispering in the hearth.

Maes sighed and smiled again, beginning to cross Roy's simple front lawn. Roy, however, hated winter. He always got so bitchy during the colder seasons... then again, Maes got pretty bitchy himself when it got too hot out, so he couldn't exactly fault him for it. Roy had always thrived in heat. During the Ishbal campaign, he had been one of the few soldiers that never complained about the sweltering afternoon temperatures of those terrible deserts. It never seemed to touch him, as if he were the sun itself. That had even become one of the many, many nicknames given to him during that fated insurgence: "The Sun". Several enlisted men and even a few officers called him that name behind his back. He was The Sun because he played with fire, because he was a bright, shining beacon of power, and because—in that scorching, hot-as-hell, drought-ravaged country—everyone both feared and hated him.

If only those men could see him the way Maes saw him, they would understand that his blazing light—while breathtaking and intimidating—was not as blistering as it looked from the outside. Roy was a good person and always had been. If his care for Edward showed anything, it was that he was capable of being kind and gentle when he wanted to be... and sometimes when he _didn't_ want to be.

The psychology of Roy Mustang was a curious thing.

Last night after getting off of work, Maes had called Roy for an update on Ed. Maes hadn't been able to talk to Roy after his horrifying discovery about the boy's imprisonment until yesterday evening, but he'd been thinking about it all day, his stomach twisting into sorrowful knots. Maes had tried calling a few times earlier in the day yesterday, but Roy didn't pick up the phone until Maes had already gotten home from work. Roy told him about Ed's reaction to being confronted with his recent past, but he didn't go into much detail and Maes didn't ask for further exposition; there were some things that he didn't need to know and Roy made that clear in the cold, clipped way that he'd delivered the information. Maes had wanted to come back over last night, but Roy refused him, saying that Edward probably wouldn't want anyone else around at the moment.

And so, unhappy but knowing that Roy was probably right, Maes had stayed away until now. He'd just gotten off of work and desperately wanted to check on both Roy and Ed. Maybe it was the father in him that made him so clingy to his friends, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to be sure that they were okay. He wanted to fix their hurts and make everything better... and the horrible, saddening, frustrating thing was that he _couldn't_ in this case. He couldn't fix either of them.

Maes clenched his jaw and raised his hand to knock on Roy's door, then changed his mind and decided to just go in without knocking. The door was unlocked and he opened it slowly, poking his head in to look toward the living room.

Roy was on the couch, absorbed in a book; probably one of the texts that Tucker had written, considering the studious expression on his face. He looked tired. He looked _so_ tired. Maes knew that the man would never admit it, but seeing Ed like this was taking a toll on him... not to mention the physical strain he was still under from the transmutation two days ago. He swore that he felt better and had that both he and Ed had slept well last night, but it was clear to see that Roy needed more than just a good night's sleep to heal him.

"You tired?" Roy asked suddenly, setting down his book. Maes started, pulled from his bleak musings, but then realized that Roy wasn't talking to him.

"_Little..._" Ed replied groggily. Maes hadn't seen him before because he was lying on the other side of Roy, stretched out on the sofa. His head was resting on Roy's thigh and Roy's hand was on his brow, absently stroking his hair back from his face. The sight was both heartwarming and painfully sad.

"Your pills are probably kicking in. I'll take you to bed after the transmutation."

Ed grunted noncommittally, snuggling closer. Roy let him, valiantly pretending that Ed's closeness wasn't making him uncomfortable, though Maes could see clearly that it was. He just sighed softly and went back to his book.

Maes smiled to himself, then came fully inside and shut the door loud enough so that they could hear him. Roy jumped, startled by the sound and nearly dropped his book. Ed raised his head sleepily, looked at him for a moment, and then lowered back down onto Roy's lap. Roy, however, glanced up at Maes guiltily, looking as if he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

Roy was weird like that; while he really _could_ be a kind and caring person at times, he seemed to think that showing fondness for anyone was a weakness and so tended to avoid it at all costs. Maes rolled his eyes and walked over to them, removing his jacket.

"I wasn't expecting you until later," Roy mumbled, pushing Ed off of him so that he could stand. Ed didn't seem to mind much and just shifted a little so that he was lying in the warm spot that Roy had just vacated.

Maes shrugged, unable to suppress a grin at his friend's awkwardness. "I decided to come straight from work."

"I can see that."

Roy led Maes into the kitchen and offered him some coffee, which Maes gratefully accepted. It didn't matter what time of day it was, you could always count on Roy Mustang to have coffee brewing.

"So how is he doing?" Maes asked, more serious now.

"Better. A lot better. But it was rough there for a little while. He was... very upset."

"I can imagine..."

"No. You can't. It's unimaginable," Roy whispered dangerously. "Don't pretend to understand what he's going through, because you _can't_. I can't."

Maes took a sharp breath, wounded by the abrupt serrated edge in his friend's voice. Roy blinked and looked away apologetically as if just realizing what he'd said.

"...Sorry," he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "I don't mean to take it out on you. I just... I just wish you had been here yesterday... I didn't know what to do."

"I offered to come over, Roy..." Maes told him gently, heart clenched to see his stoic façade broken, even if only for a moment. "I would have come..."

"I know... I know that. I thought I could handle it. But I just didn't know what to say to him... What the fuck was I supposed to say to him?"

"I'm sure you did everything that you could..."

"I _did_. But it just wasn't enough. He needs more from me than I can give him, and—" Roy cut off suddenly and took a long pull at his coffee as if to fortify himself. "I'm sorry," he said again after a moment, more quietly.

"It's okay, Roy," Maes tried to soothe him, gripping his shoulder, "It's okay to need to vent a little. I know this is hard for you..."

"I'm fine," Roy said dismissively, rolling his shoulders back and straightening. The momentary breach in his callous exterior had sealed itself and he was once again the cold, solid rock that he always pretended to be. Maes grimaced inwardly at that; the last thing Roy needed right now was to close himself off, especially since he was clearly so upset. It was a rare thing for Roy to show his true feelings—even to Maes—so the fact that he lapsed into frantic melancholy to readily meant that he was suffering even more than he was letting on.

Maes bit his lip, but didn't say anything on the matter. When Roy was ready to vent again, he would, and no amount of coaxing was going to make him open up any faster.

"...But he's doing better?" Maes ventured, looking away.

"Yeah. He ate without protest today, which is good," Roy began, clearing his throat, "He's just been sleeping off and on all day."

"Did Al call again? You said he might."

Roy nodded. "I told him about Edward's canine limbs and we agree that we should just leave them alone for the time being. Once he's back to normal, we'll let him decide if he wants to have them amputated. Though I can't really see why he _wouldn't_ want them amputated..."

"It's for the best, I suppose... So were you going to try another transmutation tonight?"

"I was planning on it. I wanted to wait for you to get here, just in case something happens. I think that I have everything set right this time, though, so I'm not foreseeing any problems. I was very thorough."

"Then I guess that we should get started before Ed falls asleep on us," Maes said, peeking at Edward over Roy's shoulder. Roy turned to look at the dozing boy and sighed softly.

"I guess so," he agreed, "I gave him his pain pills already; his hips and shoulders have been really bothering him all day... but hopefully the drugs in his system will help relax him during the transmutation."

"Ah, speaking of drugs..." Maes said, rummaging in his pocket, "I went to the hospital and tossed your name around a little until someone gave me this..."

He pulled out a small, clear vial of liquid and handed it to Roy. Roy took it curiously, then gave his friend a broad smile as he read the label.

"Morphine. Maes, you're a _saint_. I can start him on this tomorrow. He'll feel so much better..."

"Hold on a second, though. That's only for emergencies; morphine is nothing to play around with," Maes cautioned, pulling something else from his pocket.

"I'm not stupid, Maes," Roy frowned, "I know how to handle morphine. And it's not like I'm going to be injecting it. I told you, it'll be diluted and oral."

"I know, but I thought this might be better for him... I don't want him to be on morphine more than he has to be."

Roy took the rattling bottle of pills that Maes offered him and looked at it skeptically, "Codeine? But he's already on codeine."

"I know that, too. This is a _much_ higher dosage, though. They gave me this after I had my appendix taken out, but I hated taking it because it made me all loopy. It'll work, believe me... and it's safer than morphine."

Roy sighed and looked at the two bottles in his hands, "Fine. I'll only use the morphine when the pain gets really bad."

"That's all I ask."

Roy put both medicines in the cabinet and went back out into the living room. After a little coaxing, Maes and Roy managed to get Ed off of the couch and led him down into the basement. Ed's grogginess wore off almost immediately as he started down the stairs, adrenaline and renewed fear battling against the sedatives in his bloodstream. Maes was very proud of the kid at that moment. What courage it must take to come back down here to the transmutation circle, after everything that he'd been through at the hands of alchemists and even—to a much lesser extent—Roy himself. And yet Ed still followed them down without complaint, even though he knew the pain that awaited him at the bottom. Even changed as he was, Ed still had a spirit to be reckoned with and Maes' heart swelled to see it so unfazed.

The transmutation circle was much smaller than it had been before and the stone pen had been likewise contracted to hug it's perimeter. Maes still did not like the idea of Ed having to be caged in such a way during the transmutation, but he certainly understood the reasons for it being there. If the transmutation was to work, Edward had to stay in the circle, no matter how much pain he was in. The instinct of self-preservation could make him to want to escape from it and Roy couldn't risk that with such a delicate operation. Thus, the cage was still necessary.

"Go on, Edward," Roy ordered him quietly, "In the circle."

Ed hesitated very briefly, then gave Roy a quick, searching look and plodded toward the opening in the pen. He went inside and Roy closed the little door.

"Perhaps you should lie down," the alchemist suggested when he immediately started pacing around his enclosure, the anxiety coursing through him too much to handle standing still. Once again, Ed gave him that odd, appraising look as if battling against distrust but then lowered himself down onto the circle and closed his eyes, waiting.

"Thank you. Now brace yourself."

Roy's hands moved in to touch the circle. His fingers trembled very slightly, the only thing that gave away the fact that he, too, was nervous about this transmutation. It was striking to see the typically confident man doubt himself even a little and it intensified Maes' own unease tenfold. But no... he knew what he was doing.

_This_ time.

The circle began to glow slowly, pulsing brighter at a steady but gentle pace. Tiny lightening-bolts of power danced around Ed's body and he gave a muffled grunt in response to the activated alchemy. He closed his eyes even more tightly and curled in on himself, trying to bear the pain as best he could.

Roy was watching him closely, looking ready to pull back if he saw any sign that he needed to. After a short, calculating pause, he pushed forward a little bit and the circle brightened further. Ed bit back a yelp and staggered to his feet, unable to just hold still in the face of his deepened pain. Roy took his hands from the circle in response, knowing that he'd gone just a little too far. The light around Edward died and Roy straightened.

"Well, that's it, then," he told him, moving to open the door, "We're done for the night."

Ed was shaking badly, panting and clearly in a great deal of discomfort, but he didn't look anywhere near as bad as he had last time. He raised his head blearily to look at Roy.

"_That's it_?" he repeated between pained breaths.

Roy smiled, "Yeah. That's it, kid. See? It wasn't as bad as last time, was it?"

Ed gave his tail a tiny, affirmative wag and exited the pen. "_Bed now?_" he asked, butting his head against Roy's leg pleadingly. True, this transmutation had been nothing compared to the last one—almost a little anti-climactic in a way—but it had still taken a great deal out of Ed. He _trembled_ with exhaustion.

"Bed now," Roy agreed, then bent down and collected Ed in his arms.

Back upstairs, he carried Edward into the bedroom and put him down on the bed gently while Maes stood in the doorway, watching them. Ed snuggled down into the softness of the bed and Roy tossed the blankets over him. Roy looked pleased with himself, in spite of Edward's obviously intensified pain. The transmutation had worked well; not as dramatically as the first, to be sure... but still; this was progress.

This was going to _work_. This was just the first of many steps, but those steps were clearly in the right direction.

"..._Colonel bed, too?_" Ed asked sleepily, his brow furrowed with pain.

"Sure, kid. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

"'_Kay_..."

He closed his eyes and Roy moved away from him to leave the room, but then stopped dead when he saw Maes hovering in the doorway, smiling.

"...What?" he asked after a beat, brushing past him coldly.

"I didn't say anything," Maes grinned, trailing after him into the front room. Roy sat down on the couch and Maes joined him, sitting back with a smirk. "I just can't understand why you don't want kids."

"Oh please, Maes..."

"Seriously, you could be great with them. Have you _not_ noticed the way that you treat Edward now? I've never seen this side of you."

"Look. He's been through a lot. I'm just trying to help him as best I can; don't look so far into it."

"You care a lot for him, Roy. I know you do."

"Yeah, I do, so what?" he demanded, suddenly angry, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, of course not," Maes said quickly, shifting on the couch to face him, "I think it's great. Really. I just can't understand why you're always trying to hide it, even from me."

Roy stared at him, then looked away and settled himself back against the couch.

"I don't want to get too close to him."

"Why?"

"I... I don't know..." he rasped, shifting uncomfortably.

"Roy, you know that you can always talk to me..."

He sighed, bowing his head, "It's just... it... it hurts, Maes. To see him like this. And there is nothing I can do," he looked up, his dark eyes suddenly filled with grief, "I'm helpless. Useless. I proved that yesterday, didn't I? He needed someone to be there for him and I just walked away..."

"Oh, come on, Roy. You said that he _attacked_ you, you couldn't be expected to—"

"_Alphonse_ wouldn't have left him alone like that, no matter what he threatened! You wouldn't have, either. _You_ would have stayed and let him beat the shit out of you if it meant that he wasn't alone. And what did I do? I skulked down into the basement with my tail between my legs, half of me hoping that he would just kill himself and be done with it!"

"Roy..." Maes breathed, appalled and saddened beyond expression.

"And you'd dare insinuate that I would make a good father?" his voice cracked and he had to pause a moment to collect himself. "You're delusional. Completely insane."

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch. He took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. "I'm sorry," he said for the third time that night. "I just want to help him, Maes. That's all I want."

Maes hesitated then took Roy's hand in his own. "You _are_ helping him. You're helping him more than anyone else can. What was that transmutation about if not helping him?"

"That's not the only kind of help he needs, though..." he said quietly, rolling his head to the side and opening his mournful eyes. "He needs emotional support, too."

"And you're giving it to him the best you know how. He's crazy about you. All he wants is for you to stay by his side, even I can see that."

Roy chose not to make any further comment and the two of them lapsed into silence. Maes looked at him critically, a thought occurring to him. Maybe it wasn't so much that Roy didn't _want_ children... Maybe he did want them, desperately, but thought that he just shouldn't have them. Maybe he thought that he wasn't cut out for parenthood, that he wasn't good enough to be a father. Maybe he was afraid.

There were rare occasions—times like this when Roy's defensive shield had been lowered—that Maes could see what a truly sad, lonely person he was... and seeing that wound within him was unspeakably depressing.

"...I'm tired, Maes," Roy said abruptly into the quiet of the room, dismissing him, "I've had a long week."

"Well, _that's_ the understatement of the year..." Maes smirked, trying to cover his own sorrow as he got to his feet, "Go get some sleep; the kid's waiting for you."

Roy looked over his shoulder toward the half-open doorway to the bedroom, "...Yeah."

"I'll be off then... Just try not to keep Ed up with your snoring."

"I _don't_ snore," he snapped, shooting him a glare that had more amusement than malice behind it. "Why do you keep insisting that I snore?"

"Because it's true! Ask Ed."

"I don't snore!" Roy repeated, unable to keep a smile from curling the corner of his mouth.

"You _do_. I've heard you, my friend."

"Just leave already. Get out of my house, you liar."

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Maes laughed and flicked him a little wave before grabbing his jacket and letting himself out, leaving Roy on the couch to think over everything they had just talked about.

Maes pulled on his jacket and buttoned it tightly against the cold, his heart heavy and his mind full. Maybe Maes should try to stick around here more while Ed was healing. He could ask some time off of work, or perhaps request to be partnered with Colonel Mustang in this assignment of curing the Fullmetal Alchemist. Roy certainly seemed to need the help. Perhaps not with the alchemy part... but it seemed that the Sun could use a little "emotional support" of his own.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took Roy a long time to finally gather the courage to go back into the bedroom. His conversation with Maes had been both cathartic and thought provoking, but it hadn't made the feelings within him any easier to bear. Well, perhaps he just shouldn't think about them now.

He sighed to himself and crawled into bed. Ed was already asleep, curled on his side and facing away from Roy. Roy laid himself down next to him, then thought for a moment, staring at Edward's furry back. Slowly, so as not to wake him, Roy draped an arm over his sleeping form and buried his face into his coat. Ed gave a little squeak in his sleep and pressed back against his warmth, his desperation for contact transcending the bridge between wakefulness and slumber. Encouraged by that, Roy held him close and closed his eyes.

For the first time in many nights sleep came quickly, Ed's aura of taboo barely even felt.


	11. The Best Medicine

The next day, they did another successful transmutation. And another the day after that. And another the day after that. Four days of successes passed and the change in Edward was becoming more apparent with each day. He was not even close to being human again, but he was definitely less canine. His tail was shorter, retracting back into his spine. His muzzle was shorter as well, his skull shifting into something more humanoid. His back was less hunched and his pelvis had morphed to allow more range of motion in his hind legs. He still couldn't really stand upright and he probably wouldn't be able to for another week or more yet, but he was improving daily. It was a glorious, beautiful thing to witness.

There were, however, some problems that kept arising as Edward progressed. Firstly and most importantly, he was beginning to remember things about his imprisonment. As a rule, he refused to talk much about it—at least to Maes... The lieutenant colonel wasn't sure whether or not he divulged his hurts to Roy, but doubted it—but it was clear from his increasingly frequent depressions that something within him was starting to understand the full impact of what had been done to him. Sometimes he would go silent for hours, sulking next to the tree in the backyard. Sometimes he would fly into sudden rages, cursing and snarling if they tried to get too close to him. More often than not he'd calm himself down and be fine within a few minutes, most likely because the dog part of his brain quickly forgot why he was upset in the first place... then all it took was a pat on the head and a few soft words to make him happy again.

On some level, Maes had known that the more human Ed became, the more he would remember about what had been through, but somehow it hadn't really occurred to him that the stupidity of the dog might be the only thing keeping him sane at this point. In short, it was becoming abundantly clear that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.

Whatever the case, Edward's mind was still not progressing as quickly as his body—that much was certain—but there were still some rare occasions when he seemed more child than dog... albeit, a very _young_ child...

...And now was one of those times.

"_No!_" Edward snapped.

"Be _still_, Ed!" Maes said, starting to get a little irritated.

"_SAID NO!_"

"See?" Roy scowled from his perch on the arm of the couch, "I told you that he wouldn't stand for it. I already tried."

Maes sighed harshly then glared down at Edward. Ed glared back up at him, juvenile defiance radiating from him in a petulant wave. It was hard for Maes to take his indignation very seriously, though, considering the fact that he was pinning the boy to the floor and attempting to put a pair of boxers on him.

Another, much less serious problem that had arisen over the past couple of days was Edward's increasing need for clothing. The transmutations were making his fur fall out in clumps and, while his nakedness really hadn't been an issue before, a lot of bare skin was showing now and simple human modesty demanded that he be covered somehow.

Unfortunately, Edward didn't like this idea in the slightest.

Apparently, he and Roy had had an argument about it last night before bed. Roy eventually won, telling him that he couldn't sleep in the bed with him if he didn't wear the boxers that he had acquired from his old dorm room. But as soon as Ed woke up this morning he tore them off and absolutely refused to put them back on. They probably weren't very comfortable, considering that the undergarments were made for human bodies and Ed's hindquarters were still drastically mutated—and he had a tail to contend with, which had to be threaded through one of the boxers' legs—but _still_... neither Maes or Roy were very fond of the idea of Edward crawling around the house completely in the nude.

Not to mention, Maes thought, Edward was certainly going to be mortified when he fully came back to himself and realized how he'd been behaving all this time. His very uncharacteristic affection toward Roy was probably going to be embarrassing enough for him... no need to make it worse by allowing his warped reasoning to keep him stark-naked in his commander's home.

Roy had finally called Maes at home this rainy Saturday morning and begged him to come over and deal with him. Roy, like Ed, was in a foul mood today. He hadn't had his coffee this morning, as some of Edward's shed fur had somehow found it's way into his tin of coffee grounds. Maes didn't see what the big deal was, but Roy refused to make "dog-hair-tainted coffee" as he called it and so opted to be in a grouchy state of caffeine withdrawal.

Maes had laughed heartily to hear his superior and best friend make such an odd request over the phone—especially when he was so flustered and irritated to begin with—but now, after dressing Edward three times only to have the clothing removed again in a matter of minutes, Maes' patience was wearing thin. Elysia had gone through a similar phase when she was two, so Maes knew what he was getting into before he even came over, but it was still frustrating and more than a little disturbing to be going through the same motions with Ed. It was still difficult to think of him as being on level with a two-year-old.

"Come on. Stop being difficult," Maes tried again, pulling the black boxers up over his hips, "and leave them on this time."

Ed gave a low, half-hearted snarl and let him. Maes pulled them up the rest of the way and adjusted them before sitting back with an accomplished sigh. Edward pushed himself upright, looking distinctly annoyed at both Roy and Maes. He got to his feet, stumbled, then limped heavily over to stand behind the other side of the couch and mope.

"You owe me one, Roy," Maes mumbled, standing and brushing tawny fur from the knees of his trousers.

"At least he didn't bite you. He threatened to bite me earlier when I was trying to dress him. That's why I called you over."

"Oh, so you wanted him to bite _me_ instead?"

"Better you than me," Roy muttered, "Besides, he's already bitten me once; now it's your turn."

Maes snorted and his eyes traveled to the thin lines of stitches on Roy's forearm. True, Roy _had_ already been damaged by Edward's formidable bite. He seemed to be healing well, though. At least, he had never really complained about the wound and the gashes looked clean. He was supposed to go back into the hospital and get the stitches removed in a few days, but knowing Roy he'd probably just remove them himself before then.

"His limp is getting worse," Roy said suddenly, quietly so that Ed wouldn't overhear.

Maes returned his gaze to Ed's half-hidden form and replied, "I've noticed. He's not putting any weight on that front leg anymore, is he?"

Roy shook his head, "I don't think he can even move it now. It just drags when he walks."

Maes frowned. Another problem that had been arising over the past few days dealt with Ed's missing arm and leg. When Roy and Alphonse had jointly decided that they should just leave Ed's dog replacement limbs alone for now, they had assumed that they could delay amputation until he was fully well again. That was, apparently, a misguided assumption.

The limbs were dying.

"I couldn't even find a pulse in it this morning," Roy continued heavily, "The back leg is doing a bit better, but he's starting to have trouble moving that one, too."

"So what are we going to do?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I don't know any surgeons that I trust enough to do it—it isn't exactly common for a boy to come in requesting a paw-removal, is it? —but that front leg is going to need to be amputated soon if there's no circulation in it..."

"How soon?"

"Soon. Tomorrow, perhaps. The day after would be pushing it. If there's no circulation, the thing is going to start rotting... and that would be very bad news for Ed. The last thing he needs is an infection."

"Do you think that maybe you could do it?" Maes asked tentatively.

"...Maybe," he admitted, chewing on his lip, "It would be really risky even to try it with a healthy body, and he is _far_ from healthy. The shock of losing the limb could kill him... but leaving the limb alone for too long will _definitely_ kill him, so I might not have much of a choice if we can't think of an alternative."

Maes bowed his head in thought, then looked up again and forced himself to smile, "Well, at least he's wearing underwear, now. That's _one_ less problem."

Roy smirked, "And I heartily thank you for that. Let's just see if he'll _keep_ them on."

"_Mean. BOTH mean_," Ed grumbled, shooting them a dirty look over his shoulder.

Roy laughed quietly, then stood, "Come on, Edward. Let's get today's transmutation done with and then I'll make you breakfast."

Maes and Roy had learned early on that giving Edward food before inflicting him with alchemy was not a good idea, as it tended to end up as a half-digested puddle in the middle of the transmutation circle. After a couple of days, though, a routine started to work itself out: painkillers first thing in the morning, followed by the alchemy, followed by breakfast, followed by another, smaller dose of painkillers and—more often than not—a nap on the couch. The rest of the day was spent in various ways, depending on how Ed felt. He seemed to be in a particularly belligerent mood today, so perhaps it would be wise to steer clear of him and hope that he felt better after his nap.

Ed looked as if he was considering ignoring Roy's command, but then he dragged himself to his feet—only three of them, Maes noted—and shuffled toward the basement door, grumbling. Roy watched him for a moment, frowning, then bent and picked him up. Ed growled in protest, but Roy ignored him. He probably didn't want to run the risk of Ed tripping and falling down the stairs in light of his new limping clumsiness. Maes smiled a little at that, glad that Roy didn't seem quite as inclined to hold back his concern as he had been a few days ago. It wasn't as if he'd become an entirely new person overnight or anything... the change was subtle and gradual, but it was still _something_. Without even talking to him about it, Maes could see that Roy was more comfortable around Ed now.

The phone next to the couch rang. Roy stopped on the first step and half-turned to Maes. "Get that, would you? It's probably..." he stopped himself, glanced at Ed, then continued discreetly, "..._him_. He hasn't called yet today."

Maes nodded obediently and Roy continued down the stairs. He knew who Roy meant by "him". Alphonse had been calling every day, sometimes more than once to see how his brother was doing. For the most part, Roy had insisted on keeping the conversations between Alphonse and himself and had not included Edward. Al desperately wanted to talk to his brother, but Maes knew that doing so would upset Edward more than comfort him. While Ed was improving, he didn't have more than a child's grasp on space and time. He didn't understand that Al was still far away or that he couldn't be here for a few days yet.

Roy had finally given in two days ago and tried to stir Ed from one of his—unfortunately frequent—melancholies by holding the phone to his ear and letting him talk to Alphonse, but Ed's only response was to start whimpering and demand why Al couldn't be here NOW. Both Roy and Al tried to explain it to him, but the kid had just gotten more and more upset until he finally just stopped talking altogether and crawled under the kitchen table to brood.

And now Maes and Roy agreed that it would probably be better not to mention Al's name around Ed at all. Things would just go more smoothly that way until Alphonse finally arrived.

Maes lifted the phone and put it to his ear, cutting off the grating ring.

"Colonel Mustang's residence," he said into the mouthpiece, "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes speaking."

"_Oh! Good morning, sir!_" Alphonse said on the line, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"Good morning, Al," he replied cheerfully, keeping his voice low so that it didn't carry downstairs. But then he heard the electric sounds of Roy beginning the transmutation and figured it was safe to talk a little louder. "I haven't gotten to talk to you in a long time it seems like..."

"_Yes, well... things have been... chaotic_."

Maes smirked sadly, "You can say that again."

"..._So, how is brother today_?"

"Good. A little moody, but Roy seems pleased with his progress over the past few days. "

"_That's good to hear. I'm so worried about him... I wish I could be there right now_."

"I know, kid... We're taking good care of him, though, and you'll see him soon. Just three days now, right?"

"_Three days_," Al agreed, his voice heavy, "_Two, if I'm lucky. That still seems like an eternity... but I guess it's been so many months since the last time I've seen him, I can stand to wait a few more days_."

Maes frowned sadly to himself, pained by Alphonse's helpless sadness. Al was such a sweet kid. He was much more fragile and gentler than Ed was, but he was still dedicated, caring, and loyal to his brother. All he needed was Ed and he could be perfectly content with the world, in spite of the cold, hollow prison of his metal body. As long as he had Ed, he was okay... but Edward had been taken away from him for so long now that he sounded like a different person. The happy, singsong chimes that had always seemed to ring in his voice had now been silenced. He sounded older. He sounded empty.

He sounded as if he hadn't laughed in a very, very long time.

Maes hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Hey, guess what?" he asked in the lightest, most playful tone he could muster.

"_What?_"

"Ed's transmutations are making his fur fall out and he's getting dog hair _everywhere_. He's shedding like crazy and it's driving Roy insane. It's really funny to hear him bitch about it. He apparently found dog hair in his coffee this morning and had a _fit!_ And you know what Ed did in response?"

"..._What?_"

"He laughed right in his face!" Maes giggled, "It's the first time Roy's heard him really laugh since he brought him here. Your brother is being a little jerk today... that is to say, he's acting a lot like himself."

There was a pause on the end of the line, then and abrupt, almost startled-sounding burst of laughter. Maes grinned and sat back, pleased that his attempt at humor in the face of—or, really, at the expense of—tragedy had been successful.

"_Shedding into his coffee...?_" Al giggled, the release of laughter audibly lifting a small fraction of the sadness he carried from his shoulders. "_The colonel is never going to let him live that down, is he?_"

"Not on your life. This is a priceless piece of dirt that he's going to hang over his head for years to come. No one messes with Roy's coffee and gets away unscathed."

Al laughed again, in a bell-like peal that, while heartening to hear, also sounded sad somehow. He really _needed_ something to laugh about right now. He was desperate to have something to laugh about that it hurt for Maes to hear it. Laughter was, of course, the best medicine, though. It was cathartic and it healed. Maes personally tried to laugh as much as possible and tried just as hard to make those around him laugh as well. Even if it wasn't really that funny, even if the situation was horrifying and sickening, he tried to find a way to laugh about it. It made him feel better. Maybe it was some twisted form of escapism, but it worked.

Being able to laugh at a small fraction of his brother's transformation was probably small comfort to Alphonse, but it was the best that Maes could do for him at the moment and that thought absolutely killed him inside.

"...Are _you_ alright, Alphonse?" he felt compelled to ask after a moment when Al's pained giggling fell silent.

Al hesitated before answering, probably taken off-guard by such a question. Al was not the concern right now, Ed was... but still, Alphonse needed looking after, too. His brother was a dog and he was alone on the road, still days away from anyone he knew. What could that be like? How could he even put into words how badly he must be suffering?

"..._I'll be better once I see him_..." he answered finally. Maes wasn't sure if he believed that statement, but didn't say anything. "_Ah, the train's here. Gotta go_."

"See you soon, then."

"_Yeah. Soon_."

They hung up and Maes closed his eyes. Poor kid. Well, at least things were looking up for the most part and he'd be back with his brother in a few days' time. That long-awaited meeting was probably going to both hurt him and heal him beyond anything he had ever known.

The alchemic sounds filtering up from the basement had quieted during Maes' short conversation with Al, but now they started up again abruptly. Maes opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow curiously. _Two_ transmutations? That's odd... He kept listening and the noise died away again, only to roar to life again once more, this time accompanied by a howling shriek from Ed—a sound that, while haunting, was becoming disturbingly everyday in this household. _Three_ transmutations, now...? Was something wrong...?

"MAES!" Roy shouted from the basement suddenly, the anxiety in his voice ramming into Maes with a sledgehammer of worry. He was on his feet in an instant, barreling toward the basement door with his heart in his throat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

No, no, no... Things could _not_ go wrong now, not when they've come so far...

Roy slammed his hands down on the circle and tried again. Edward stiffened as the transmutation enveloped him, then loosed another sharp cry as Roy pushed hard through the alchemy.

"What? What's wrong?" Maes demanded as he came flying down the staircase, "What happened?"

"_Nothing_ happened," Roy said numbly, pulling his hands from the circle. Ed gave a whimpering sigh and leaned against the door to the cage, eager to be let out.

Maes stopped and stared at him, "What the hell Roy? Then why did you call for me like that if nothing's wrong? You nearly gave me a heart-attack!"

"Something _is_ wrong!" he shouted back, the first hints of panic twisting his insides, "Nothing is happening! The transmutation isn't working!"

"...What? Why?"

"If I knew that, Maes, there wouldn't be a problem, would there? Damn it, is it too much to ask to only have one crisis at a time?" he snapped, then turned back to Edward, "We're going to try one more time, Edward."

"_No_..." he moaned, cowering against the door, "_Enough, enough_..."

"Just once more," Roy promised, already beginning.

He closed his eyes and reached for Edward with his mind, guiding the energy into him and telling it what to do. The circle itself held most of the instructions that the alchemy was supposed to follow and Roy was simply a conduit for the change and a kind of overseer for the process. Roy could almost see the reaction happening in his mind's eye like tiny, electric-white hands trying to break down Edward's body—deconstructing his bones and tissues, shifting them, and then making them whole again in one slick movement that allowed for subtle change but no real injury other than a lingering pain.

He worked slowly this time and everything started out smoothly: glowing circle, alchemic roar, and the prickling of power coursing down to the palms of his hands. It was fine. Perfect. Maybe the previous failed attempts had been flukes... It happened sometimes. If everything wasn't completely exact, if the circle was incomplete or if the alchemist was lacking in sufficient concentration, sometimes the transmutation would end as a dud and nothing would happen. Perhaps Roy had gotten too casual with doing this particular transmutation, since he'd done it so many times over the past few days and felt too comfortable with it to give it the proper attention it needed to work. Perhaps he'd just rushed it too much...

But then Roy felt it again. It was like an abrupt wall had been thrown up in front of his alchemic progress. He slammed into it hard and Ed shrieked, jolted by the metaphorical impact. Roy reeled for a moment, then backed up and threw himself against the blockage, trying to break it down but wary of pushing Edward too hard. In spite of his caution Ed cried out again in a long, keening wail. Roy hesitated, considered pushing forward even harder, but then decided that the risk was too great and that Ed had suffered enough for today.

He took his hands from the circle and Edward sagged against the makeshift bars of his cage in relief.

"...I don't know what's wrong," he told Maes quietly.

"Is there something wrong with the circle, maybe...?" Maes asked tentatively, casting a worried glance at Ed who was pawing at the door to his cage, pleading to be released.

"It's fine. Everything is fine. I've checked it over like a million times" Roy spat in frustration, obliging Ed's whimpering request and opening the door for him. Edward limped out as quickly as he was able, his right front paw dragging the ground and nearly tripping him in his haste to be out of the cage. Roy watched him silently, then sighed and beckoned for him to come closer. "Come here, Edward."

Ed didn't comply immediately. He looked both hurt and a little angry, probably greatly displeased that Roy had attempted the failed transmutation on him so many times in one session. He didn't understand Roy's reasons for doing it and was certainly not happy with him. After a short pause, though, he stumbled over to his superior and sat down in front of him, his expression cold and his ears laid back.

Roy took Edward's lifeless leg in his hands, ignoring the boy's ire and continuing his conversation with Maes.

"I guess we'll just try again later..." he said, palpating the leg which—to his chagrin—was not only still without a pulse, but had gone completely cold since the last time he'd checked it. "For now, I should probably hit the books again and see if it mentions anything about alchemic blocks in chimeraism..."

"Alchemic blocks?"

Roy sighed again loudly. He was both worried and irritated and really did not feel like explaining alchemic concepts to his friend, but he knew that Maes just wanted to understand what was going on so that he could help. Unfortunately, Maes was not an alchemist and could do nothing to help Roy with this problem, in spite of his good intentions.

"It just means that the alchemy isn't working right. It's like it's stuck."

"Can't you just... you know, force your way through it?"

"...Possibly. I'm afraid of pushing too hard, though; that would almost certainly do more harm than good... it could break him down entirely into a puddle of guts, blood, and bone."

"That's... graphic," Maes mumbled, wrinkling his nose in a comedic attempt to cover the brief horror that had crossed his face at Roy's words.

Roy smirked at him darkly, then turned back to Ed. Ed was positively glaring at him, his half-human face worn with exhaustion and tightened with pain. Roy reached down and pinched the cold flesh between his toes as hard as he could, checking to see if the leg had any feeling left in it.

"Does this hurt?" he asked.

"_Hurt everywhere_," Ed replied tiredly, his tone more than a little accusatory.

"I meant _here_. Does it hurt where I'm pinching?"

"_No._ _It's loose_."

"Loose?" Roy asked, thinking that he'd misspoken, "Do you mean limp? Like it's numb and you can't move it?"

"_No, loose. LOOSE_," he insisted.

"Loose...? Like... like a tooth?" Maes asked as he stepped over to them and crouched down, trying to understand.

"_Yes. Like that_."

Roy frowned and looked at his friend. "What the hell does that mean?"

Maes shrugged and Ed made an aggravated sound. Since they'd started the transmutations, Ed had been talking a lot more... but that didn't mean that they could always understand what he was saying and it was making the kid increasingly frustrated. He knew what he wanted to say, but often couldn't find a coherent way to say it with his limited vocabulary.

Roy's frown deepened and he started palpating his way up the leg again, hoping that Ed still had some sensation left in the limb, even if it was only the smallest tingle of feeling. He held the leg out, pulling on it until it was fully extended before him. As he was pulling, though, he felt something pop. Half a second later, the other end of the leg fell to the floor with a dull thump, having suddenly disconnected from Ed's body.

All three of them froze, staring down in disbelief at the disembodied limb—the paw of which Roy still held in one hand—which was currently leaking thick, dark red fluid onto the floor.

Roy was the first to break himself from his stunned surprise. He dropped the leg quickly and clamped his hand down on the empty, blood-sticky place on Ed's shoulder where the limb had all too recently been attached, instinctively trying to stop the blood-flow.

"Oh god, Ed!" Maes cried, whipping his shirt off and wadding it up, helping Roy press it to the wound. "Hold still!"

Ed didn't give a response. He was still looking down at the leg bemusedly. Then he blinked and smirked up at Roy calmly.

"_Told you, loose_," he said, seemingly unfazed by the fact that one of his limbs had just decided to fall off without warning. Roy stared at him, trying to absorb his lucid placidity in the face of amputation. He didn't seem to be in any more pain than usual and he certainly wasn't very upset...

Heart pounding, he ventured to peel the t-shirt back from the empty arm socket and assess the damage.

It was hardly bleeding at all: it was just some old, half-congealed gore smeared across a smooth plane. Where Roy had expected a ragged injury of bloody meat and shards of humerus, there was scarcely a wound at all. The area was raw and pink, but looked more like a mostly-healed injury than a devastatingly new one.

Maes gave a strangled, slightly mad bark of laughter and sat back on his heels, finally realizing that Edward wasn't in any danger of bleeding to death. "Oh, _eww_..." he commented, "That is _so_ gross."

"Gross" didn't even begin to cover it. Mind and heart both still racing, Roy reached over and picked the leg up, trying to ignore his own revulsion as he looked at it. Much of the tattered flesh at the shoulder of the limb looked as if it hadn't been attached to healthy tissue in a long while, Ed's human body having severed it's connection with the foreign appendage.

"Well..." Roy said as calmly as he could manage, given the circumstances, "I suppose that's _one_ _more_ problem that we have to worry about."

Maes threw his head back and cackled into the dimness of the basement. Roy scowled at him.

Honestly, that man would laugh at anything.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In a dark world that Maes constantly strove to find light in, there was suddenly nothing left to laugh about.

"...That's it, then," Roy said quietly, putting down the academic text that he'd been scouring over for the past few hours. Ed was next to him on the couch, deeply asleep, his head buried in a cushion. "It's over. We've failed."

"You can't say that!" Maes whispered back scathingly, "Maybe the book is wrong."

"It's not wrong, Maes. I know it isn't. Tucker knew his shit; he wasn't an idiot."

"So there's _nothing_ you can do? Nothing at all?" Maes asked desperately, fighting to keep his voice down so that they didn't wake Edward.

Roy clenched his jaw and looked away and Maes' heart sank.

After hours of searching, Roy had finally stumbled across a reference to alchemic blocks in Tucker's manual. It was brief and vague, but it more-or-less stated that if a block in chimeral alchemy was reached, getting past it meant destroying both of the combined creatures. When Roy had read the passage aloud, Maes had watched—with growing horror—the terrible veil of defeat begin to descend upon him. Just those few words and he was already losing hope, those half-forgotten plans for euthanasia resurfacing in his mind and stealing all emotion from his face.

Maes cleared his throat and tried again, "The passage was in reference to _combining_ animals though; it didn't say anything about taking them apart... Maybe it's different when separating them... maybe there's still a way to get past it," he reasoned, scrambling frantically for anything that might make Roy change his mind about what he was thinking of doing.

"...Maybe," Roy conceded after a beat, "but it's a long-shot..."

"But there's still a chance, right?"

"Barely."

"Still, it's better than giving up altogether!"

Roy massaged his temple, but didn't say anything. Maes swallowed hard and sat down next to him. It couldn't end like this. Things had been going so well... how could things turn so wrong so fast?

"Maybe Al can help..." Maes said, "maybe he'll know what to do."

"Doubtful."

"Just..." his voice cracked slightly and he had to pause before continuing, "If you really do have to euthanize him... just, please, wait for Al to get here."

"You want _this_ to be the last memory that Alphonse has of his brother?" Roy spat, angrily gesturing at Ed's sleeping form.

"He should have a chance to say goodbye, Roy... If it comes to that."

Again, Roy didn't say anything... but his brooding thoughts were written all over his face. He stood abruptly and stormed from the room, out through the back door—no doubt wanting to be alone with his painful contemplations and Maes didn't blame him. He had a heavy decision to make.

Maes wiped his eyes and looked at Ed, watching him breathe softly. Maes had vowed not to get in the way if Roy chose to end Edward's life, but that had been when such a thought—while terrible—didn't seem as if it would ever manifest itself into a reality. Now, though, the nearing prospect of having to keep to his vow was turning Maes' stomach. How _could_ he...? But Maes knew that Edward was suffering. In constant pain. It really _was_ the kindest thing to let him go if all else failed.

...But HOW could they fail now? When Roy had worked so hard, when he had given so much of himself to this poor, sick boy? It couldn't end like this. It just couldn't.

Out in the yard, the sky opened up and it started raining cold droplets onto the world.

Still, Roy didn't come back inside for what seemed like a very long time.

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((A/N: There will probably be somewhere around three more chapters to this, for those of you who are wondering. Thanks for all the great feedback; it's what gets me through my week.))


	12. Skuhwerl

Maes stepped into Roy's apartment as quietly as he could manage, trying to keep the paper sack he was carrying from rustling too much as he gently shut the door behind him and crossed the living room to the kitchen. Halfway there, he did a double-take and looked back at the couch to see his best friend sleeping soundly on the cushions. Maes set his burden on the kitchen table and then moved back into the living room to peer down on Roy's slumbering form.

He was lying on his side, pressing himself close against the couch's backrest as if he wished the soft fabric could just swallow him whole. His face was almost entirely obscured by pillows, but Maes could see his brow knit as he shifted to burrow himself against the couch even more. He made a soft, distressed sound in his sleep, clutching his blanket to his chest like a child caught in a bad dream, desperately trying to find solace in anything he could hold on to.

Maes bit his lip and reached forward to grip Roy's shoulder, shaking him awake.

Roy twisted and sat up quickly as if shocked, casting his bleary eyes around until they landed on Maes. He stared at him for a moment in confusion, then let out a great, relieved breath and flopped back onto the couch.

"_Fuck_, Maes. You scared the hell out of me," he grouched, rubbing his face with his hands.

Maes smirked. "I think you were having a nightmare, you can't blame me for that. All I did was wake you up."

Roy grunted and flung an arm over his eyes. It was nearly eight o'clock and the dull sunlight, while still cold and grey from the overcast sky, shone in from the window brightly enough to bother his tired eyes.

"Why are you out here on the couch?" he asked curiously with a wry smile, "Did Ed kick you out because he couldn't stand your snoring anymore?"

Roy lowered his arm enough to give Maes a dirty look, but it was plain to see that his heart wasn't in it.

"I don't want to share a bed with him anymore," he said after a beat, closing his eyes again, "I should have been sleeping out here from the start."

"Why? He likes sleeping with you. It comforts him, you said it yourself."

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled, rolling over to bury himself against the couch again.

"...It _does_ matter, Roy." Maes looked at him for a moment, then ventured, "Look, I know you're mad about the block or whatever, but don't take it out on him..."

"I'm not!" Roy snapped, sitting up and facing him again.

"You're _ignoring_ him! You were doing it last night, too; don't think I didn't notice. You're upset that you might not be able to fix him, and I understand that, but he needs you to be there for him, _especially_ now!"

"I just... I don't want to get too close to him..." Roy said for the second time since Ed had been brought to live with him, his tone flat and hard.

"It doesn't matter what _you_ want!" Maes bellowed at him, suddenly incensed. Roy blinked in groggy surprise, taken off-guard by the outburst. "Do you think _I_ want this? Don't you think this is hard for me, too? Yeah, I know it would be easier to distance yourself from him and pretend that everything is fine, and sometimes I envy your ability to just shove everything aside and say that it doesn't matter, but you can't do that to him!"

Roy stood, his face contorted with anger. "Where the _hell_ do you get off—"

"He LOVES you, Roy! No matter how painful it might be for you to realize that, you can't just turn your back on him. Don't you _dare_ turn your back on him now, as if he's already dead."

"Then what do you propose I do?" Roy shot back, his face inches from Maes', "I'm listening, Maes. I'm all ears. Just tell me what to do. Tell me how I can fix this. Tell me how I can make everything better. Tell me how I'm supposed to look at him, knowing that I've failed! It doesn't matter what I do now, nothing matters!"

"It matters to _him_!"

"He's a dog! He doesn't understand half of what I say to him anyway, so what's the point of saying anything to him at all?"

It was all Maes could do to keep from hitting him. Roy couldn't possibly believe that. He was just afraid and sad and hopeless and looking for any excuse to not have to confront those emotions. He really was willing to turn his back on the poor boy just because he couldn't handle those terrible feelings. He didn't want to deal with it and so he simply just _didn't_.

Maes opened his mouth angrily to form a biting reply, but a figure in the corner of his eye stopped him. Roy and Maes both turned to see Edward creeping out from the dimness of the hallway, his eyes wide. Maes felt Roy stiffen beside him as his own heart shuddered in his chest. How much had he heard?

"..._Stop fighting_..." Edward requested tremulously, turning his gaze from one to the other, "_It's bad_."

Maes turned to look at Roy and the man seemed to wilt a little, looking both relieved and sad. It seemed Ed hadn't heard anything at all and had just been awoken by the yelling.

"We're not fighting," Maes told him, lying through his teeth, "we were just having a discussion. It's okay."

Ed looked at Roy uncertainly and he nodded silently in agreement with Maes' words, swallowing hard and averting his gaze. His anger and hurt had fled once more, hiding somewhere within him where he wouldn't have to acknowledge it. He turned and, without saying anything at all to Edward, retreated to the kitchen and stood at the sink to get himself a glass of water, his back to both of them.

Maes clenched his jaw and looked down at Ed. The boy was watching Roy's back, but made no move to follow him. "_Need to go outside_," he told Maes softly, not moving his gaze from Roy.

Maes went to the back door unquestioningly and opened it. Ed followed after a moment, but then paused on the threshold.

"_Colonel is mad at Ed_?" he asked quietly so that Roy wouldn't hear. His voice was so completely miserable that it jerked sharply at Maes' heart. How could he _not_ think that Roy was mad at him, given the man's sudden shift in behavior toward him?

"No, sweetheart... he's not mad at you. He's just upset. Really."

Edward nodded, looking as if he didn't really believe him, and limped out the door, heading toward the oak tree. Several young-looking squirrels were scampering around the roots and Ed turned to look at them with interest.

Maes watched him for a tiny, thoughtful beat, then turned his attentions back to Roy. The man was still standing at the sink, head bent as if in deep contemplation. Maes sighed and stepped into the kitchen, his shoes echoing desolately on the cold tiled floor. He stopped in front of the table and rummaged through the paper bag he'd brought in until he found what he was looking for.

"Here," he said, setting it down loudly on the counter next to Roy, "I bought you more coffee."

Roy looked over at it passively, then turned away again as Maes continued rummaging through the grocery bag.

"Thanks," he said finally, but his tone was certainly less than grateful.

"I thought maybe if you got your caffeine fix, you'd start being less of an asshole," Maes snapped at him.

"What do you want from me, Maes!?" Roy exploded, whipping around to face him.

"I want you to stop acting like you don't care what happens to him! I want you to stop hiding and comfort him, for fuck's sake! He thinks you're mad at him!"

"No he doesn't."

"Yes he does, he just told me!"

Roy stopped, looking abruptly stricken. "I'm not mad at him..."

"...I know, Roy," Maes conceded tiredly, his shoulders slumping, "I know you aren't mad and I told him that... But it's not hard to see why he would think such a thing. You can't just withdraw from him like this. He _needs_ you. Even if it turns out..." he paused to clear his throat, "Even if it turns out that you do have to euthanize him... that's no excuse for you to be acting like this."

Roy closed his eyes and turned back to the sink, his hands resting on either side of the metal basin, and said nothing.

"I know it's hard, but you'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't spend time with him now," Maes rasped, his heart aching. "Just try to make him happy until Al gets here and we figure all this out. That's all I want you to do."

Roy bowed his head a little further, but remained silent. Maes exhaled harshly and started pulling things out of the grocery bag and setting them on the kitchen table with a little more force than was necessary. The sounds of his frustrated movements were impossibly loud in the small, otherwise-silent kitchen but Maes didn't care. He felt like screaming at the top of his lungs. He'd tried to be stern and he'd tried to be nice, but Roy was stubborn as a mule... especially when he was upset. There was probably nothing that Maes could say to him to make him try and re-adopt his newly budding relationship with Ed.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Roy looked over his shoulder to watch Maes. He just stood there, looking at him with an implacable expression until curiosity compelled him to ask:

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"I'm making some goddamned pancakes, is that okay with you?!" Maes shouted, his anger still not entirely spent, "Ed can't subsist entirely off of that broth crap you give him and _you_ need something more than toast! So just shut up and get me a mixing bowl!"

Roy looked startled for a moment, but Maes ignored him, focusing on getting the bag of flour open without making the white powder fly everywhere. His hands were shaking and he was still so full of heated emotions that half of him just wanted to tear the bag apart and throw the ragged, powdery product in Roy's face. After a few moments, though, Roy appeared at his side with a metal mixing bowl and Maes felt a tiny fraction of his anger dissipate. He sighed and took the bowl from him without looking up.

"Where's Ed?" Roy asked after a very pregnant pause.

"Out in the yard. Probably watching the squirrels."

"Ah."

An awkward, shamed kind of tension formed between both parties. Maes knew that he was being too harsh and Roy knew that Maes was entirely right, but neither wanted to apologize first, so the uncomfortable feeling between them just continued to mount.

The phone chose that opportune moment to give a shrill ring and the sound reverberated in the cold quiet of the house.

"It's probably Al," Roy said, his voice barely loud enough to be called a whisper. Maes nodded and Roy exited to go answer it.

Maes closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then straightened and continued with his task.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What do you mean, 'his leg came off'?" Al gasped into the phone incredulously, the high, shocked tone of his voice drawing the gazes of a passing woman and her young daughter. Al was huddled just outside of a train-station's telephone booth that he was too big to fit into very well, waiting for the nine o' clock northbound train to arrive.

"_I mean just what I said_," the colonel answered sharply, "_His body rejected the front leg and it finally came off yesterday morning right after you called_."

"What about the other leg?"

"_Well, that one's still there. It doesn't look long for this world, though. He's lost some feeling and I think that_--"

Al listened to the colonel describe the physical wellness of his brother's limb, but was distracted by something in his voice. It wasn't something wrong, _per se_, just a little odd. He sounded on edge. Clipped. Alphonse got the feeling that he really didn't want to be on the phone. He sounded like he had better things to do than tell a tin can about the wellbeing of his dog-brother. He sounded tired and irritated... but, then again, he always sounded tired lately and often sounded irritated... Still, Al was an intuitive boy and something just didn't seem right.

"Is something wrong?" he asked suddenly, interrupting Mustang.

The colonel stopped talking. There was a pause on the other end of the line and Al knew a moment of fear. Mustang was a man who rarely hesitated to say something. The one and only time that Al had ever heard him pause so awkwardly before speaking was a few days ago when he'd told Al of Ed's transformation. The fact that he was hesitating again could only mean that something was wrong.

Mustang sighed after a moment. "_I hit a block with Edward yesterday_," he said finally.

"...And you can't get past it?" Al asked after a beat, absorbing what this might possibly mean.

"_I tried again this morning. Still nothing. I don't know what to do._"

Al pulled the phone away from his helmet a little, balking from the uncharacteristic uncertainty in the man's voice. That's what Al had been hearing in his voice, _uncertainty_ and frustration. Possibly even fear.

"_Tucker didn't happen to mention anything to you and Ed about blocks in life alchemy while you were living with him, did he?"_

"Not that I recall..." Al said slowly, still startled by the half-concealed hopelessness that he was hearing through the phone lines. Alchemic blocks were frustrating, but they could almost always be bypassed eventually. Al just did not understand why he sounded so upset. Then again, he probably wasn't as well versed in life alchemy as Al and Edward were... maybe he just didn't know how to get past them and was starting to panic. "But blocks aren't all that uncommon, Colonel... I'm sure we can get past it. Don't worry. I think that you and I together could do it, no sweat."

Mustang fell silent again as if thinking deeply. "..._You're right_," he said finally, all trace of doubt—all trace of _any_ emotion, really—gone from his voice. "_Forgive me_."

A deep, almost painful chill ran through Al then. He should have felt glad that he'd apparently strengthened Mustang's faith, but he didn't. Instead, a dark sense of foreboding flooded him. It was just something about the way he'd said it... "_forgive me_". Not that it sounded like he didn't mean it... it sounded like he meant it too much.

"We all have doubts sometimes, don't worry about it..." Al said timidly, not exactly sure _why_ he felt so suddenly timid. He cleared his throat needlessly, one of the many habits of having a real body that he'd never really broken. "So, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes said that Ed seemed better yesterday..." he began, trying to turn the subject a little.

"_Other than his leg falling off... yes, he's doing well_," the man replied stonily, "_Since the transmutations over the past two days haven't really worked, his pain isn't as bad. I've been sitting here watching him harass the squirrels in the backyard since you called."_

"That's good." Al knew that Ed had been spending most of his days sleeping both because of physical exhaustion and the fact that his medicines made him sleepy. It was heartening to hear that he was up and about more today. "How does he look?"

"_Honestly? He looks like a werewolf with mange_."

"I see."

"..._He does look much more like himself now, though_," he added after a brief pause, as if in apology for his harsh description.

"Well, he'll start to look better once we work past the block."

"..._Right_."

Again that strange feeling enveloped Al, that cold feeling that something just wasn't right. He ignored it. "So... uh... any other news?"

"No, not really," Mustang sighed, "I just—"

His words cut off and for a moment Al thought they'd been disconnected. Before he could say anything, though, Mustang spoke again.

"..._The hell is that kid doing_...?" he mumbled curiously, most likely distracted by something Ed was doing. There was another stretch of silence, followed by a gasp and a loud curse. "_Oh god, you'll have to call me back. I think he's trying to eat a squirrel_."

And with that, the phone line went dead. Al looked at the phone blankly, then hung it up, wondering what Mustang was keeping from him.

He sighed. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Thankfully, in two days he'd be back in Central and then he'd feel better. He was sure that it was going to be hard to see Edward as he was now and was more than a little nervous about seeing how bad off he actually was... but he and the colonel could fix him. They had to.

There was no other option.

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Maes froze where he stood with mixing bowl in hand, mid-whisk, as he stared out the door to the backyard that Roy had just so speedily run through.

There were many things that Maes had never expected to see in his life:

Colonel Roy Mustang, barefoot, wearing only pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, streaking across his backyard at full speed, screaming "Don't eat it, don't eat it, _don't eat it_!" at a dog-boy with a bloodied squirrel in his mouth was _definitely_ one of those things.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Drop it, Ed!" Roy commanded, coming to a halt in front of him.

Edward gave some sort of cheerful reply, but whatever it was, it was too warped by the rodent in his mouth to be understood.

"Come on, hand it over," Roy tried again authoritatively and Ed obediently dropped it into his awaiting hand. Roy looked down at the torn creature, quelling a brief wave of revulsion. Oh god, it was still _alive_...

"_It's for Colonel!_" Ed said brightly, uncaring of the blood dripping from his short muzzle as he sat back on his haunches. "_Skuh-werl not loud now. See?_"

"I see," he said, forcing himself to give the boy a tight smile, "Um... thank you...?"

Ed beamed at the half-hearted thanks, looking oddly relieved. "_Colonel not mad now, yes?_" he asked hopefully, butting his nose against Roy's hand.

Roy clenched his jaw. What Maes had said was true, then. Ed thought that Roy was mad at him... and perhaps this was his way of trying to make amends. The human part of Ed understood that Roy hated the squirrels for waking him up all the time and the dog part of him was more than happy to bring his master a trophy... these factors must have combined in Ed's twisted mind and his skewed logic decided that presenting Roy with a dead squirrel would be the best way to get back in his good graces.

It made perfect sense in a depressing, sickening way.

"I'm not mad," he said quietly, "...Not at you, at least."

Ed's remaining length of tail thumped the ground happily, "_Caught it! Caught it for Colonel. Skuh-werl very fast_."

"I can imagine..." he mumbled, looking back down at the twitching, gasping squirrel in his hand and wondering how the hell a sick, three-legged chimera had managed to catch it in the first place. The squirrel looked young, so perhaps it had been cocky and had gotten too close. The stupid little thing.

"_Colonel is proud of Ed?_"

Roy looked up again at the question, his heart feeling suddenly confined. He started to reply, but then had to stop, his throat too tight to form words. God, what a question... Why did he have to ask that? Why did he have to be so forgiving and sweet? Why couldn't he just be the way he was supposed to be, a little punk with no respect for authority? But no, that Edward was dead... and _this_ Edward would soon join him in the grave. Alphonse had his hopes, but Roy knew in his heart that there would be no recovering from this—Tucker's notes had more-or-less stated that. He was too badly damaged, both in body and mind... and Roy just could not let him stay this way, no matter what Al said, no matter what _Maes_ said.

This had to end... and, oh, how it hurt. It hurt so much. It was unbearable and yet, he had to bear it. Maes had been right about that, at least. He couldn't just distance himself from Ed because it would make it easier when he eventually had to end his life. It wasn't fair to Ed and he had already suffered enough. None of this was his fault and it was wrong for Roy to treat him as if it was.

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, pained, then cleared his throat and, very sincerely, said, "...Colonel is always _very_ proud of Ed."

Ed grinned broadly and Roy tried to smile back, but couldn't quite summon the willpower. Ed didn't really seem to notice, though, and got to his feet again unsteadily. He turned and headed back toward the oak tree, most likely with the intent of catching another squirrel for his Colonel. Roy wasn't too worried, though; the things would probably recognize Ed as a danger now and know better than to get too close.

So Roy just let him go and went back into the house. He looked up and saw Maes standing in the doorway, watching him with an expression of deepest sympathy. He'd probably been watching the whole time. He didn't say anything, just stepped aside as Roy came in and seated himself carefully on the couch, the tiny squirrel still cradled in his hand.

It didn't have much longer to live. Roy was a little surprised that it was still alive at all, as much blood as it had lost. It just continued to pant out its last few breaths, the puncture wounds that Ed's teeth had made in its fragile chest bubbling with blood. Its black eyes were half-lidded and dim, knowing nothing but darkness and mortal pain.

"...You have to understand, Maes," Roy rasped to his friend, still looking down at the dying creature in his hands, but thinking about another dying creature entirely, "That I'm not _trying_ to be like this... but sometimes bad things happen..."

He stopped, vision blurring. He reached down with his other hand to press his thumb and index finger against the sides of the squirrel's neck. He gave it a sharp little twist and felt the tiniest, nearly intangible crack as its neck snapped. The thing fell still and quiet, it's suffering ended, it's life snuffed. "Sometimes evil triumphs over good. Sometimes I just _can't win_ and I'm _sorry_... but that's the way it has to be."

Maes sighed gently and moved to sit next to him.

"I do understand that, Roy," he whispered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully taking the dead animal from his friend. "I'm not an idiot, nor am I naïve. I've seen death, I know the ways of the world, and I know how terrible it is to go in to something with the knowledge that you are probably going to fail... but that doesn't mean that you can stop trying..."

He wrapped the squirrel in the handkerchief and set it on the coffee table reverently, placing its still-bleeding body down on the wooden surface with great care.

"You can't give up yet, Roy. That's all I'm saying. I'm not giving up, Al isn't giving up, and Ed certainly isn't giving up... You said yourself that there was still a chance that this could work, that maybe Al could help you... Just, please, don't lose hope just yet. We still have time."

Roy worked his jaw hard, fighting back a mélange of emotions that he frantically did not want to recognize. But, finally, he nodded. Maes was right. Maes was always right... one of the reasons Roy liked keeping him around. He was one of the few people who wasn't afraid to knock some sense into Roy when he seemed beyond reason... and Roy loved him for that. And, while he didn't really have much hope left within him, he understood that he still had to push forward, even if just for that slight, one-in-a hundred chance that Ed could still be saved. He owed the kid that much.

The colonel wiped his eyes quickly on the back of his arm and stood.

"...I need to wash the blood off my hands," he stated, his voice breaking slightly.

He retreated to the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. He turned on the sink and plunged his hands under the cold spray numbly, watching the bloody water slide from his skin and spiral down the drain.


	13. Colonel Bastard

Alphonse walked quickly down the streets of Central, a piece of paper clutched in his massive metal hands as if his very life depended on it. In a sense, maybe it did.

It was mid-afternoon and the sky was threatening rain again. These morose, fickle days smack in between autumn and winter tended to be like this, as if the weather spent every moment intending to dump buckets of rain down upon the frigid earth, but then changed it's mind before a single drop could actually fall. Alphonse wished that the sky would stop _thinking_ about raining and just do it already. Not that Al particularly liked rain—because he didn't—but rain was better than the _anticipation_ of rain. It was like there was a raw sort of tension around him, as if something was about to happen, as if something in the universe was about to shift... and Al would much rather that it would just hurry up and _happen_ rather than keep him trembling on the brink of it, waiting helplessly.

This is how Al had been feeling for seven days now, since that cold morning when he'd first heard that his brother had been found. When the rain came... when Al finally got to see his brother's face again (oh, but would it even look the same?) it was going to be terrible. He knew that. But the strain of _waiting_ for that most anguishing of encounters was far worse. He was overjoyed and terrified that this long-awaited moment was going to happen soon...

Today...

_Right now._

Alphonse looked down at the paper again, confirming the address that Mustang had dictated to him over the phone. _This is it_, he thought, looking up at the modest house in front of him, _This is finally it_.

He walked up the front steps, trying to calm himself even as his anxiety spiked higher. Mustang had said that Ed had been "doing well", but what did that even mean? Al couldn't even picture in his head what Ed must look like now, nor could he grasp Mustang's descriptions of his weakened mental state. He had tried to prepare himself for what was about to see, but how could he do that when part of him still couldn't believe that such terrible things had actually happened to his brother? It was so unreal.

Al raised his hand, the tension in his soul reaching some sort of cosmic pinnacle, and knocked on the door.

The door was tugged open almost immediately to reveal a very irritated-looking, very disheveled man with pale fibers of dog fur clinging to his black shirt.

"What took you so long?" Mustang demanded, brushing his untidy hair out of his face, "You brother is bugging the hell out of me. I made the mistake of telling him that you'd be here today and he won't leave me alone about it! Get inside."

The tension that Al had felt so overwhelmingly just seconds before was knocked into a startled kind of bemusement, broken by Mustang's appearance. He almost wanted to laugh. He didn't though. He didn't even move.

Mustang gave an annoyed little sigh and grabbed Alphonse's arm, forcibly dragging him over the threshold and closing the door behind him.

"He's in the bedroom," Mustang said, walking across the living room toward a dim hallway, "It's getting too hard for him to walk much, so he's stayed in bed a lot for the past day or so."

Al hesitated for a moment before following behind him meekly. He was so happy. He was so scared. If he'd had a stomach, he probably would have thrown up. It had been nearly five months since Al had seen his brother—his guardian, his best friend, his only reason for being alive—and his absence had been like an ache eating away at Al's insides... a cankerous void that desperately needed to be filled again. And now it would be. It would be fine. He and Mustang would fix Ed and then Al would take him back to Resembool to get his automail reinstalled, and then everything would be okay again. They were going to be together forever. This was nothing, right? Ed was going to be okay. He was alive, and as long as he was alive, the world could keep spinning... Nothing could keep Edward down. He was so strong, he was so strong, he was so...

Mustang looked at Al over his shoulder as they reached the bedroom door.

"Try not to get him too worked up," he said quietly, "He's still very weak."

Al nodded, wringing his hands as Mustang pushed open the door.

And then suddenly all thoughts were gone from his head. He looked upon his brother's corrupted body and felt nothing but the cool, penetrating buzz of numb shock. He hadn't been able to imagine it, but here it was before him... and it was horrifying.

Ed raised his head and, for one impossibly long moment, neither Elric brother could react to the other's presence.

Edward was lying on the bed on his side, his long, lean torso made skeletal by abuse and neglect. Mustang had warned him that Ed had lost a lot of weight and muscle-mass, but this... he looked like he shouldn't even be alive. Al could see each one of his ribs jutting out from under his thin, patchy fur and the sharp ridge of his spine looked almost reptilian in the watery gray light filtering in through the uncurtained window beside the bed. Ed's body was sickeningly misshapen—some lurching thing halfway between human and canine—and Al had known that before stepping in, but actually _seeing_ his brother so deformed was even more unspeakable than he'd thought it could be. It was repulsive... absolutely grotesque.

But, oh, it was still so beautifully _alive_.

"..._Al?_" Ed asked breathlessly, his voice just as mutated as his body.

A deep sob echoed from within Al's armor and he ran to his brother, flinging his arms around him and scooping him up off the bed in a tight, anguished embrace. He clutched his brother to his chest and wept as he hadn't wept since his mother's funeral, since a time when he had actually been physically capable of shedding tears.

Ed wrapped his arm-like front leg around Alphonse as well as he could manage, pressing himself against his brother tightly and whimpering plaintively. He did not cry; he _whimpered_. Like a dog. Like a sad, scared, hurt dog. Alphonse never thought that such a sound could be so horrifying.

Another grating sob broke from him, "Oh, Ed, I'm so sorry... I tried so hard to f-find you. I really did. I'm so sorry that I c-couldn't protect you..."

"_Al, Al, Al, Al_..." Ed whimpered, his frail body trembling.

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Roy left the room the moment Alphonse started crying and neither of the Elric boys noticed his departure. He didn't need to witness this. This was a private meeting of shared grief between brothers and he had no place in it. They needed some time alone, time to cope with what was happening.

Above all things, Roy wanted to give them time. There might be very little of it left. There was only one more chance to change Edward back and it was happening today. If Al and Roy together could not get past the block, then there would be no getting past it at all without killing Edward. There was nothing in the books. No one alive seemed to know anything. This was it. The final trial.

It all depended on Al, now.

Roy didn't even want to hope. It was too painful to let his guard down, especially now, after he'd been preparing himself for days for what he might have to do to Edward. It would be easier to just lack hope entirely than to hope and be disappointed. But now his hope had been rekindled...

Damn Maes Hughes. Damn his contagious optimism. It was so dangerous to indulge in, but how could Roy completely reject hope when it kept being thrown in his face...?

He sighed and dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, resting his elbows on the wooden surface. He clasped his hands together and rested his forehead against his thumbs, closing his eyes as if in silent prayer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alphonse stayed in Mustang's bedroom with Ed for what felt like only a few moments, but in that seemingly brief stretch of time the sun had rocketed itself toward the western horizon and hours passed without notice. It was early evening now and Ed was sleeping lightly on Alphonse's lap. Al didn't mind in the slightest.

They had attempted conversation earlier, but Al had trouble understanding a lot of what his brother said and so they lapsed into a sad, yet contented silence. Ed fell asleep not too long afterward, exhausted by his own emotions, but Al was more than happy to just sit with him in his arms. His brother was alive and they were together again... and that was all that mattered.

Al watched his brother critically as he slept, absorbing the lines of stitches on his forehead, the pallor of his once-tan skin, and the rail thinness of his tiny, bony wrists... He was just so _thin_, now... so frail and tired. Edward had always been small for his age, but Al was used to it and knew better than to make a big deal about it, but now he looked even smaller. He looked as fragile as a dead leaf: something withered and brittle and so easily destroyed. After Al's initial elation at seeing his brother alive, he had almost been afraid to touch him again, terrified of hurting him. After a while, though, he realized that if grabbing him up in a crushing embrace hadn't injured him, then just sitting with him quietly and stroking his golden head certainly wouldn't do any damage.

This was just so unreal. He had his brother in his lap, and yet Alphonse almost feared to believe that he was really there. It had been so long since he'd seen Ed... and now that they were together again, Ed had been made into some other creature that hardly even resembled Alphonse's big brother. Part of him didn't want to accept that this thing—this tortured animal—was really Edward Elric. Maybe there had been a mistake. Maybe Ed was still out there somewhere, waiting to be found... or worse, dead in a ditch with ravens squabbling over who got to eat his beautiful, perfect eyes out of his skull.

Al shook his head violently, dispelling that image from his mind. No. They'd found Ed. He was safe, now. Sick and transformed, but _safe_ and Al and Mustang were going to fix him. Everything was going to be all right.

Ed moaned softly in his sleep, his brow furrowing as he started to stir.

"Brother?" Al crooned to him, running his fingers through his tangled hair.

Edward gave another pained moan and drew in on himself in discomfort. He raised his head and dragged himself to his feet unsteadily, hunching his back and hanging his head.

"_Need pills, now_..." he rasped tightly, gesturing toward the closed bedroom door with a tilt of his head, "_Hurts bad_."

"Oh. Of course," Al stumbled. Mustang had mentioned more than once that Ed was on a heavy cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers and they had been huddled together in the bedroom for so long that it was probably well past time for him to be re-dosed. No wonder he was in pain. "Do... um... do you need me to carry you?"

Ed stared at his brother for a few beats as if surprised by the question, but then he smirked darkly and nodded. _Clearly_, he needed to be carried since he only had two fully functioning limbs and even those were compromised by stiffness and pain. Al felt a little stupid for asking in retrospect, but the sardonic smirk that touched his brother's face was so joyously _Ed-like_ that he didn't mind much.

And so, very carefully, Alphonse collected his brother in his arms. Ed shifted a little to get more comfortable in Al's metal embrace, but then settled as Al opened the door and carried him out into the front room.

Mustang was sitting in the adjacent kitchen, still as a statue, his elbow leaning on the table and his mouth pressed against his clenched fist as he stared off into space. When Al stepped out of the short hallway, he blinked as if torn from a deep meditation and raised his head. He glanced at Al briefly, then looked at Ed, then pushed himself up from the table and retrieved a small pill-bottle from the cabinet without needing to be asked.

"He needed these over an hour ago," Mustang said distantly, shaking a pill into his hand and approaching Ed with it, "I considered barging in and dosing him, but I didn't want to disturb you. I figured he'd let you know when he really needed it."

"That was very considerate of you. Thank you," Al told him sincerely, watching as Ed obediently opened his mouth and allowed Mustang to deposit the small while capsule on his tongue. Mustang shrugged in response to Al's thanks, not meeting his eyes.

"I'd like to get started on the transmutation, if you don't mind," Mustang said after a brief pause.

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

In Al's arms, Ed sighed unhappily but didn't give any other sign of protest. Mustang's dark eyes flicked over to look at him again and his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he turned and exited the kitchen, beckoning for Al to follow.

Mustang led the way through a door and down a dim flight of stairs. Alphonse looked around, awed and a little surprised by all the scientific equipment and documents littering the room. Mustang had converted his cellar into an alchemy workroom—and an impressive one at that. It was hard to picture Colonel Mustang as a scientist—even though he obviously _was_, given his excellence in alchemy—and Al was abruptly forced to view the man a little differently. It was clear to see that Mustang had put a lot of effort into this workroom and used it frequently. He, like Ed and Al, was a man of science and learning and not just a soulless colonel in the military.

"I take it you approve?"

Mustang's wry voice shook Al from his wonderment and he ducked his head a little shyly. "This is a nice set-up you've got here," he mumbled, moving toward where Mustang was standing next to a ring of stone pillars.

Mustang smirked humorlessly, though he did seem a little pleased with Al's awe. Al would have loved to have a workroom like this and Mustang probably knew it. An organized, well-stocked workroom is like an alchemist's dream.

"Here," Mustang commanded, pulling open a rough wooden door that broke the ring of stone, "Put him inside."

Al did as he was told and only then did he notice the transmutation circle within. A tiny pinprick of horror touched him. The circle was so _complicated_. The detail in it was phenomenal, far beyond anything that Al had even attempted to draw. He'd known days ago that it was going to be some pretty heavy alchemy to change Ed back, but this was insane. So this is why Mustang had sounded so upset about the block... with alchemy this complicated, it could take forever to find out what was causing it if Al and Mustang's combined power couldn't break through it—if they could figure it out at all.

No sense worrying about it now, though. Al and Mustang needed to just try and get past the block on their own before trying anything else.

Mustang closed the little door after Al put Ed in the circle and got down on his knees. Al did the same, watching him for direction. Ed settled himself on the floor, clearly very familiar with the routine and just wanting to get it over with.

"Ready?" Mustang asked Alphonse, reaching in between the pillars and placing his hands on the circle.

"Ready," Al answered, mimicking Mustang's movements. Truth be told, the cage-like pillars made Alphonse a little uneasy... but he figured that Mustang had a good reason for placing them around the circle and didn't ask about it. Instead he pressed his palms to the ornate array and awaited instruction.

"Follow my lead," the colonel mumbled, closing his eyes and concentrating.

The circle started to glow and Al felt the gentle tug of Mustang's alchemy on his soul. He followed the pull and augmented it with his own alchemic skill, further brightening the circle as he allowed Mustang to take hold of his power and mold it for his own purposes. Al didn't mind Mustang taking control of the transmutation. The man did, after all, know this particular sequence much better than Al did, and Al even felt a little relieved to be getting so much guidance in such a difficult transmutation. He was a skilled alchemist... a _very_ skilled alchemist... but this operation was delicate and he had never experienced anything quite like it before.

Just when Al was starting to get a feel for the alchemy, though, he was abruptly jolted by the appearance of the block. Ed yelped and his muscles tightened in pain, nearly moving Al to pull back from the circle.

"Don't even think about it," Mustang snapped, eyes still closed, "Stay focused, alright? We need to try and push through it."

Al steadied himself and tore his gaze away from Ed. Watching him shudder with agony would only be a distraction and Mustang was right: he needed to stay focused if this was going to work. Mustang's power tugged on him again like an insistent child and together he and Alphonse pushed hard against the block.

Ed shrieked, the sound seeming to reverberate within Al's armor, resonating something so terrible that Alphonse nearly drew back again, but Mustang forced him forward, ever forward, into the white heat of the transmutation. But still the block remained, deflecting their efforts without showing any sign of wear.

And then suddenly, the transmutation stopped. Mustang took his hands from the circle slowly and sat back on his heels.

"That's it, then," he said quietly.

Al frowned and looked back at his brother. Ed was pulling himself upright again, whimpering and muttering to himself.

"Hm. I was so _sure_ that you and I could do it..." he mused, disappointed but still hopeful. "I guess we have some research to do."

Mustang turned his head to look at him silently. He just stared for several beats as if fighting some sort of internal battle, but then his expression went cold and he straightened himself.

"I suppose we do," he said gruffly, standing. "I'd like you to run over to Central Library and see what you can find. Perhaps there's something I missed."

Al almost protested. He didn't want to leave Edward again so soon, even if it was only for a few hours... but something about the way Mustang spoke made him think better of arguing. Besides, it looked as if Mustang had been taking good care of Ed all this time and Al owed him more than he could ever repay... At this point, he should be doing anything that Mustang asked of him without complaint.

"Yes, sir," Al agreed, straightening, "I'll do anything to help."

"...I know," the man replied, his eyes still on Ed, "And this will help me a great deal."

Al frowned inwardly, unsettled by the sudden emptiness in the colonel's voice.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The telephone on the edge of Maes' desk rang and he answered it quickly. He'd been anticipating a certain call all day and each time the phone rang his heart started racing.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, here," Maes said into the phone, trying hard not to sound as anxious as he was.

"_It's me_," Roy answered quietly.

"Well... did it work?"

"..._It was the same. Nothing happened_."

"No..." Maes rasped, closing his eyes tightly and fighting to contain the sudden impulse to cry. He knew what that meant.

"_I have to, Maes. You know I do_."

"Do you w-want me to come over and... and help?" he asked, desperately not wanting to but feeling the need to offer.

There was a pause before he replied, as if he were thinking it over.

"..._No_," he said finally, his voice still so unbelievably, enviously emotionless and even, "_I think that would just make it harder. For both of us. I gave Al my pocket watch and sent him to the library to do research. It will probably only take him an hour or so to realize that I already have all the texts on chimeras checked out. I'd appreciate it if you could go down there and keep him distracted for as long as you can. I'm... going to need some time._"

Maes tried to give his friend an affirmative reply, but his throat closed and he could not make himself speak. Tears formed in his eyes and he didn't bother to brush them away. This was really the end. It was really over. They had lost the fight.

Edward was going to die and Roy was the executioner. Maes didn't know which of them he pitied more. Sure, poor Ed was going to be killed... but then his suffering would be over while Roy's pain was just beginning. What must it be like to have to kill a child? And not just any child, but a child that you loved with every part of you? What if it were Maes in Roy's position and he was forced to kill his sweet little Elysia... to _murder_ her in cold blood? Maes wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it, no matter what terrible pain she was in... even if she was screaming in agony... even if...

He stopped himself, those thoughts becoming too terrible to entertain. Maes could not fall apart now. Roy needed him to be strong, needed him to keep Al away while he quietly killed his big brother... Maes had to keep himself together for that, at least. Roy needed him.

"...I'll do what I can," Maes finally managed to choke out, the tears spilling over and trailing down his cheeks.

"_Thank you. I have to go._"

"Okay."

There was a pause, then:

"..._Maes?_"

"Yeah, Roy?" Maes sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"..._Please don't hate me for this_."

And without even waiting for a reply, he hung up.

"I don't," Maes whispered to the dial tone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roy took a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly.

He had done this before. He could do it again. His hands were already stained, no matter how many times he'd tried to cleanse them... what was one more life among the throng of others that he'd taken? This would be nothing. Nothing at all. He was a killer already. A murderer. Even his allies during the Ishbalan uprising had said as much behind his back, when they'd thought he wasn't listening.

"Murderer" wasn't even the worst of what they called him. He'd had so many nicknames. Some of them were more benign, like "The Sun" and "Major Flame". Others, though... they had stung. Names like "the Destroyer". Like "the Plague of Ishbal". Like "Baby-Burner" and "Satan's Soldier". So _many_ names, many of which he would repeat to himself silently as he leveled cities and slaughtered the enemies of his country, trying to make himself believe that he really was as heartless as everyone thought he was. Because if he was heartless... if he _really was_ this monstrous, evil thing... then perhaps he could keep committing the atrocities that he'd been ordered to commit instead of turning his weapons upon himself as something deep within him begged him to do.

And Roy wished he that was heartless. Oh, how he wished it. He wasn't, though. Not even close. The best he could do was delay his horror and self-hatred for a little while until he'd completed his mission, hiding behind those fucking names. They empowered him. They kept him driven.

_Hellfire Mustang._

_Mustang the Eradicator._

_The Genocidal Alchemist._

Roy rolled his shoulders back and let the coldness wash over him. He could do this. Of course he could. He was Colonel Roy Mustang, a force to be reckoned with. Even his own people feared him. He had nearly annihilated and entire race of people, had ended more lives than he could even count. Putting this pathetic, whining chimera out of its misery would be nothing.

Nothing at all.

He pulled the little vial down from the cabinet and went into the bedroom where the chimera was waiting for him, lounging on its side as it attempted to sleep off the pain in its bones. Roy didn't even look up at it. Instead he opened the top drawer of his bureau and took out a thin box that he had acquired from the hospital days ago, when he had first started preparing himself for what he was about to do. He took the box over to the bed, flipped up the latch, and opened it.

There were three glass hypodermic syringes within the padded case, each one pristine and glistening in the rainy light floating in through the window.

"_Colonel?_" the chimera asked warily.

Roy ignored him, removing one of the syringes and sliding the needle into the vial of morphine that Maes had provided him with days ago. Roy silently swore to himself that he would never tell Maes how it was being used. He sucked the clear fluid into the syringe, filling it almost completely with the concentrated drug. It would be more than enough.

The chimera complained again quietly, saying something about not liking needles. It didn't matter what it was saying, really, so Roy continued to ignore it. Soon, it wouldn't say anything at all.

_The Boiler_

_The Mad Dog_

_Bloodlust Mustang_

He sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed the chimera by the scruff of its neck. It yelped and shied away, not liking the close proximity of the needle.

"Be still!" Roy barked at it, tightening his grip. The thing stilled a little at the curt order, but continued to whimper. God, what an irritating, grating noise that was. Roy tried to push it out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. The syringe was cold in his tensed fingers as he lifted it and jammed the needle into the side of the chimera's neck.

The thing yelped again, but didn't try to pull away. It just looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. Eyes that held fear and pain and a _trust_ so boundless that it momentarily cracked Roy's resolve. How could he be so trusting...?

Roy shook himself, pushing away those thoughts. He had a job to do. He shifted his hand so that his thumb rested lightly on the plunger of the syringe. He clenched his jaw and steeled himself for the act.

_The Military's Flamethrower._

_The Grim Reaper._

_Colonel Bastard._

That last one stopped him, jarring him from his forcedly stoic mindset. He could hear Ed calling him that in the back of his mind, the kid's voice raised in that disrespectful indignation that Roy had always found both comical and infuriating... This was the one nickname that he'd never really hated.

"_...Colonel is mad again?_" Ed asked quietly, his voice wavering.

"I'm not mad! Why do you keep asking that?" Roy snapped at him.

Ed jumped a little at the raw anger in Mustang's voice, and then cried out as the movement made the needle dig even deeper into the tender flesh of his neck.

"I told you to be still, damn it!" Roy scolded, unable to keep a tremor from his voice.

"_Sorry..._" Ed rasped, frightened, "_Ed is sorry. Sorry..._" He leaned forward a little—though his movements were limited by the needle in his neck—and rested his head against Roy's chest. "_Don't be mad. Please. Sorry, sorry..._"

Roy's heart tightened painfully as if attempting to curl in on itself like a wounded animal, trying to hide. The warmth of Edward's head against his chest was unbearable.

"I'm not mad," he finally forced himself to say again, though this time his voice was soft and gentle. "I just... I need to give you this shot. It will make you feel better. All of your pain will go away."

"..._All of it_?" Ed asked, pulling back a little to look up into Roy's face.

"Yes. All of it."

"..._Okay_..." he conceded unhappily, though the prospect of no pain was clearly appealing to him. He closed his eyes and just waited for Roy to depress the syringe, trusting him unconditionally.

_How can you trust me?_ Roy wanted to shout at him, _I'm going to kill you, and still you trust me! Are you really so stupid now, Edward? Are you really so lost?_

Roy swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the syringe, tensing his thumb. His heart was pounding hard, the terrible beat making his hand tremble and his mouth go dry. He had to do this. He had to. He had to. He had to...

_I can't_.

In one swift motion, he tore the needle from Ed's neck and threw it hard across the room. It hit the far wall and shattered, sending a shower of glass and blessed poison raining down onto the floor. Ed stared at Roy, startled, not understanding and Roy didn't want to explain. He grabbed Ed and lifted him into his arms, running out of the room and down into the open door of the basement. He barreled down the flight of stairs, his heart and mind both racing. He yanked open the door to the stone cage and threw Ed inside roughly.

One more time. He would do it one more time.

He shut the door and stormed over to the desk in the corner, snatching up a gleaming silver blade from the cluttered surface. He ran back over to the cage and hit his knees in front of it, then dragged the blade across each of his palms, slicing his hands open before tossing it aside. He clenched his fists so that blood dribbled down onto the transmutation circle. It was a last-ditch effort that would probably do more harm than good, but the blood would give him an extra boost in his alchemy, a more intimate connection with the circle that might allow him to violently break through the block.

He was going to give this everything he had. Just one more transmutation. If Ed was going to die anyway, then he was going to die in the attempt of becoming human again. He would die _trying_! Roy wasn't going to hold back at all this time, no matter what it did to Ed. No matter what it did to Roy.

He slapped his blood-wet hands onto the red lines of the transmutation circle, reveling in the sting of his damaged flesh striking the painted stone. He deserved the pain. _Give me more_.

Edward was whimpering again, scared now to see his Colonel Bastard bleeding. Roy didn't want his pity. That was the last thing he wanted. He closed his eyes against the sight of that beautiful, caring boy, silently mouthed, "I love you, Edward," and threw himself violently into the transmutation.

The circle lit up immediately, not with the gentle glow that he associated with careful, delicate alchemy, but with a blazing, fiery roar that burned into Roy's eyes even from behind his closed lids. It sucked the breath from his lungs like a domineering, over-amorous lover and he welcomed the breathlessness. It was probably the only thing keeping him from screaming. He let his senses flow into the reaction, flying forward with no sense of caution to hold him back. He was beyond that, now, drunk and half mad with power and pain. Agony shot up his arms from the cuts on his hands, tugging on his veins as he pushed the alchemy outward from every cell of his body, putting every molecule of his being to work.

He reached the block quickly and rammed into it. Distantly, he heard Ed loose a sharp, howling cry. It seemed to come from very far away, though and Roy quickly lost interest, too concerned with battering himself against the block like a bird striking itself against its reflection in a window.

_Break it down, BREAK IT DOWN!_ he ordered his alchemy, personified by tiny white hands in his reeling mind. _Tear it apart. Tear HIM apart. Destroy and create, destroy and create!_

The greedy little hands tore at the block, eating at it, banging on it with pale fists. The metaphorical wall buckled slightly under the onslaught and Roy gathered himself, reaching into every part of his mind and body for fuel to aid him in this one, final attack.

He dug his bloodied nails into the transmutation circle and gave it everything he had. The wall cracked and shattered and Roy's power shot past it like a torrent of water from a breeched dam. The forward momentum of the alchemy surged from Roy and into Ed, the displacement of power so intense that Roy's physical body pitched forward a little, striking his forehead against one of the rough pillars and momentarily distracting him from his meditations. He could suddenly hear Ed more clearly now, and he listened as the familiar shrieking howl he'd heard so many times slowly morphed into the ceaseless screaming of a child. A _human_ child. And even worse than hearing that gut-wrenching, plaintive sound, was the silence when it suddenly stopped.

The sane, conservative alchemist in him pleaded him to try and pull back, but it was already too late and he knew it. The little white hands were already imbedding themselves into Ed's flesh and bone, gushing forward with more power than Roy could control, eroding both dog and boy more quickly than they were building him up again.

_Destroy and create destroy and create destroy destroy destroy des—_

Blackness.

Roy cracked his eyes open slowly, pain crawling over every inch of his body. He was lying on the floor, collapsed into a heap of cold exhaustion. That had been it. That was all he had to give. There was nothing left within him. He was empty. Hollow. And so very tired...

He turned his heavy head and looked at the body within the circle. Edward was sprawled on his back, his open eyes staring blindly upward. Roy pulled himself up onto his elbows and managed to fumble the door of the cage open dazedly. He reached in and grabbed Ed by his arm, dragging him out with his last bit of strength. Ed's remaining dog-limb detached and remained within the circle, pulpy and half-disintegrated by the reaction.

Roy leaned over him, examining him closely. Ed's nose and ears were bleeding sluggishly and the blood vessels in his eyes had ruptured, painting the white part the color of dark wine. A red foam of blood and saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth. His mindless body gasped in oxygen sharply, arrhythmically like a fish run ashore—dying, but not yet dead.

Oh, but it really was _Ed's_ face... it was _his_ mouth, _his_ nose... _his_ neck, _his_ chest, _his_ hand, almost all traces of the canine invasion banished. He wasn't quite human again entirely, but Roy had tried his best. Ed was far past being able to care about it anyway... but at least Roy had _tried_... at least Edward would look a little more like the boy that Roy had grown to care for when they finally put him in his coffin.

The colonel, weak with fatigue and knowing that there was nothing more he could do for him, cradled the boy close to his chest and curled around him, patiently waiting for his small, struggling heart to finally give up and fall still.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

((A/N: one more chapter and an epilogue to go. I intend to post them at the same time, so hopefully they'll be done by next weekend.))


	14. Lost

Alphonse sighed and started down the flight of steps in front of Central Library in disappointment. There hadn't really been anything of use there. He'd been searching for what felt like hours and it was already mostly dark outside. It seemed that Mustang had already checked out every book on chimeras that the library owned... but perhaps he'd just been hoping that there was one that both he and the librarians had overlooked. Whatever the case, coming to the library had been a complete waste of time.

He was so frustrated. He'd been so eager to get here and see his brother again, but now that he was here he felt just as lost and alone as ever. Mustang had been working so hard to help Edward, and Al had done next to nothing... he wanted to help, he was _desperate_ to help, but the transmutation had still been a dud. Mustang had been counting on him to help him break through the block and he hadn't been able to. Then Mustang had sent him to do research and he couldn't even do that. He was utterly useless, and had been ever since Ed went missing.

He sighed again harshly and kicked a pebble from one of the steps sullenly. Once again, he was going to have to go back to the colonel empty-handed. This reluctance must be something like what Edward must have felt every time he had to report in to Mustang after each failed attempt to find the Philosopher's Stone. No wonder Ed hated coming in to work, if he felt even half as worthless as Al felt now...

"Alphonse!"

Al looked up to see Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes waving at him from the bottom of the steps. In spite of himself, Al's spirits lifted a little to see him. He really liked Hughes. He was a very sweet man who could always make him laugh. Al had silently wished more than once that Mustang could be a little more like Hughes and loosen up a bit. Al didn't think that he'd ever seen the colonel really laugh at anything when he wasn't being ironic. Hughes, though, could go from serious soldier to all smiles at the drop of a hat. He was caring and kind and trustworthy, everything that Al felt a good man should be.

Al smiled and waved back as he trotted down the steps to meet him.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Colonel!" he greeted warmly, glad to see a friendly face when he was so sick at heart. As he approached, though, Alphonse tilted his head to the side curiously. Hughes didn't look good. His eyes were red and he looked a little on the pale side... in spite of this, he was still smiling brightly, so Al shrugged it off. Perhaps he had a cold. It was easy to get sick this time of year. "How are you?"

"I guess I can't complain," Hughes shrugged cheerfully, "How about you?"

"I've been better, to be honest..." Al replied darkly, "I mean, I'm so glad to be back here with Ed... but I feel like I'm just dead weight and Mustang's doing all the work. I really want to help, though..."

"Well... well maybe the best thing to do then is just stay out of the colonel's hair for a while, don't you think...?"

"I guess... I do want to go back and spend time with Ed, though..."

"I really think you should leave Ed to Roy, Alphonse," the man said with a sudden seriousness that took Al a little off-guard. Hughes seemed to sense his surprise and immediately his bubbling smile returned to his face, "Say, why don't you come over to my house for a while. I'm only a few blocks away. I'm sure Elysia and Gracia would both _love_ to see you!"

"I don't know..."

"Oh, come on! You've been gone for so long! You haven't seen any of the latest pictures I've taken of my little angel!"

"No really, I think—"

"Nope! I'm not gonna hear it," Hughes declared, grabbing Al's arm and starting to tow him down the sidewalk, "Elysia will be so happy to see you! How can I deny her such a joy?"

Al considered resisting, but then gave in and let himself be dragged down the block. He knew there was no point in arguing this matter with Maes Hughes. And so, with only a little bit of reluctance, Alphonse moved to walk beside him, half-listening as the man produced a thick stack of pictures from his wallet and babbled about how amazing his daughter was.

Something about the way he was talking didn't sit right with Al, though. The exuberant smile on his face didn't quite reach up to his over-bright, bloodshot eyes. He looked distracted and the light tone in his voice sounded forced and maybe even a little choked...

"Her birthday's only a month and a half away you know!" he gushed, "I'm thinking of getting her a puppy this year, what do you think?"

"Sir, are you okay?" Al asked suddenly, worry touching him as he looked down at the man.

The corner of Hughes' mouth twitched. "Who, me?" he asked flippantly, quickly averting his gaze.

"...Yeah. Your eyes are all red."

"Just a little hay-fever, I think. I've been sneezing all day! So anyway, about the puppy..."

Al stopped walking and looked at him skeptically. When Hughes realized that Al wasn't at his side he also stopped and turned around.

"...Nothing is blooming in Central this time of year," Al said slowly.

"What?"

"You said that you have hay-fever... but there isn't any pollen or anything in the air right now. It's too cool and damp."

"...Well, maybe it's a cold, then," the man said nervously, though he tried to play it off with a careless shrug. Why was he nervous? "What do I look like, a doctor? Come on, let's get going before it gets any darker."

Al didn't budge. Hughes was lying. Something was wrong... something was really, really wrong and Hughes was _lying_ about it.

"Why are you lying to me...?" Al asked, his skepticism turning into anxiety.

"I'm not! It's nothing, really. Just a cold. Please, let's just go."

"You're keeping something from me!" Al insisted, "I'd thought that Mustang was keeping something from me when I was talking to him on the phone a few days ago and now you're doing it, too!"

"Al, please—"

"If it's something to do with Ed, I should know! I'm all he has and I have to take care of him!"

Hughes didn't say anything to that. Al couldn't hide the sudden fear in his voice and the force of it seemed to slam into Hughes like a wave. He just stood there, looking at Al with so much pity worn into his pale face that it was painful to look at.

"...You're trying to keep me away from Mustang's place..." Al realized slowly, "That's what this is all about... that's why he sent me here. He knew I wasn't going to find anything..."

"Al... Kid, you have to understand..." Hughes began, but then stopped as his voice broke mournfully.

"No... Something's wrong, isn't it? I'm going back over there."

"No, please wait!" the man begged grabbing him by the arm again to keep him from leaving, "Don't go, Al. Please. I _promised_ him."

"What are you talking about? Just tell me what's wrong!"

"I _can't_."

Al tore his arm from Hughes' grip and turned to bolt down the street. There had to be a reason that Hughes was trying to distract him from going back to see Edward. Something must have happened... or something was _about_ to happen that Hughes didn't want him to see.

"Alphonse, stop!" Hughes cried, running after him as it finally started to rain.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roy was lying on the floor in the basement. For several beats, he couldn't remember why. He felt disconnected from his body. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't move, couldn't focus on anything over than the roaring in his ears, the pounding in his skull, and the taste of blood in his mouth.

Had he passed out? Fallen asleep...? God, he was so tired...

But then he came back to himself and felt Edward's limp body enclosed in his arms. He shut his eyes again tightly and buried his face against the top of his lifeless blond head. He didn't want to let go of him. He didn't want to have to look at what he'd done to him.

He was surely dead by now... A quick glance toward the open door at the top of the staircase told him that night had fallen in the world outside. At least an hour must have passed since the transmutation and Ed had probably had only minutes left before Roy blacked out... Roy hadn't even been conscious for him as he died...

He shuddered and wound his arms even more tightly around the child, pulling their bodies together, too overcome to even weep. The body was still warm and Roy clung to that warmth desperately, trying to embrace that last, failing sign of life...

But then he stopped.

If Ed had been dead for nearly an hour already, the body should have gone cold ages ago... it shouldn't be warm at all...

Roy let go of him and rolled him onto his back, hauling himself up onto his hands and knees to look down at him. Ed's eyes were still open and glazed, fixed vaguely on the empty space over Roy's left shoulder. He was pale as death and the smudges and streaks of dried blood on his face made him look even more colorless. Roy put a hand to his cheek. He _was_ warm... really warm. Unnaturally warm, as if he had a fever. Roy's heart stumbled and he leaned his face down against Edward's lips, holding his own breath as he checked the body before him for respiration.

A faint current of air was flowing from Edward's mouth... hitched and uneven, but _there_.

"_No._.." Roy moaned softly.

He was still alive.

Roy should have felt an unnamable joy to see that the boy he'd just murdered still breathed, should have at least felt _some_ relief at knowing that his ravaged body yet lived... but he didn't. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"Ed?" he called, waving a hand in front of the boy's face slowly. Edward's dull eyes started to follow the movement of Roy's hand vaguely, unfocusedly, like a newborn baby trying to make sense of what he's seeing...but then he seemed to lose track of it and fell still again to stare blindly at nothing.

_No... Oh, please, no... _

This was worse... far worse than killing him. Far worse even than leaving him as a chimera. As a chimera, at least, he'd had some intelligence... had been able to communicate and understand things on a basic level. But now... oh...

Roy had destroyed him. Had completely broken him and yet had failed to kill him. There was still something left of life in him, but it was small and severely damaged. He was even less than a dog now... he was a vegetable, lacking any sort of thought or feeling.

How many ways could Roy possibly fail this boy? He hadn't been able to keep him out of trouble in the first place, then had failed to find him for over _four months_, during which time unspeakable evils had been done to him. Then even after he'd been rescued, Roy continued to fail him. He hadn't been able to give him the comfort he needed in his vulnerable, depressed state. He hadn't been able to make him human again—and he'd tried _so hard_, he really had—and now, at the end of it all, he had even failed to kill him. He had plagued him with something far more terrible than death rather than ending his suffering.

No wonder Ed had always hated him before this whole clusterfuck of tragedies had occurred; Roy had been a complete _failure_ in everything he had ever tried to do for him.

Roy clenched his jaw hard against the sob threatening to burst from him and lowered his head, resting his aching brow against Ed's bare chest. He was going to have to kill him again. He couldn't leave him like _this_, not after swearing not to leave him as a chimera. How would he do it, though? He was too weak to attempt another transmutation... there wasn't enough morphine left to end him painlessly... He had a gun upstairs; it would be easy enough to blow the kid's brains out. Just one second, _BANG!_ then nothing.

It would be simple...

He'd shot people before...

He'd killed before...

_...God, this shouldn't be so fucking hard!_

He shook his head, wrapping his arms around the boy once more. No, he couldn't do it again. Someone else had to do it. Anybody else. Let Maes do it. Let Armstrong do it. Anybody but him. It had been hard enough the first time and he just _couldn't_... not him... not again.

He was such a fucking _coward_.

Maybe Maes had been right the whole time. Maybe Al really would have been willing to take care of Ed in his dumbed-down, barely cognizant state... Maybe Ed's pain could have been controlled with heavier drugs and maybe he and his brother could have lived happily together for years to come. Maybe Roy had been wrong from the beginning and should have discussed everything with Alphonse the way that Maes had wanted him to... Maybe Al would have...

Oh, god... _Al_.

Alphonse was probably going to be back soon if it was already getting dark out. Maes was a terrible liar and Al was smart; it wasn't going to take him long to figure out Roy's ruse and when he did he'd certainly fly back here as quickly as his metal body could take him. He couldn't see Ed like this, lying on the floor of the basement in bloody disarray, his hair matted to his face... That would be too cruel a thing to do to him... and hadn't he been dealt enough pain? Wasn't the situation terrible enough without leaving Ed's still-living body on the ground, encircled by a sticky pool of his own blood? Roy had to get him upstairs and cleaned off at the very least... it was the only decent thing he could do at this point, after so many mistakes that he could never even bring himself to beg forgiveness for.

And so, sluggishly, Roy attempted to lift Edward's limp body from the ground. He was weak and he was tired and he was so heartsick that he almost gave up before he started, but somehow he managed to throw the motionless body over his shoulder and stagger to his feet. The basement swayed in his vision but he forced himself to remain standing, focusing all of his attentions on the door at the top of the stairs.

One slow, lurching step at a time, he crossed the room. Roy felt heavy in both body and soul and the weight of the dead-but-not-dead child on his back was almost unbearable, but he finally made it to the stairs and paused on the first step, gasping and fighting against the cold, fuzzy blackness that was trying to enshroud his vision. He shook his head to try and clear his failing sight, but that didn't do much more than intensify his vertigo.

He took a breath to steady himself and started up. The pulsing darkness at the corners of his eyes deepened but he continued to push himself until he thought his heart would rupture from exhaustion. He hated this damn staircase. A frantic, giddy voice in the back of his head suggested that he should install a ramp instead. He almost laughed aloud at the thought, but he was too busy placing once foot in front of the other to allow himself any kind of emotional outlet.

Roy reached the top of the staircase, but did not let himself stop and rest. If he did, he might never be able to get himself going again. He didn't want a repeat of what happened the last time he had so exhausted himself through alchemy. He didn't have time to pass out again. He had to get Edward settled and cleaned up. He had to. He had to do it before Al showed up.

But, damn, what a lame gesture it seemed to want to present Al with a tidier version of his invalid brother... Would it even make that much of a difference to him? If Roy left him as is, would he even _notice_ the blood, sweat, and dirt on his face, or would he be too distracted by the harrowing fact that Colonel Roy Mustang had extinguished his brother's beautiful mind in a covert attempt to murder him? In that case, maybe it would be better if Roy just allowed himself to collapse... to black out and not have to witness Alphonse's reaction to his brother's empty body. Oblivion was easier to withstand than that terrible inevitability...

As if in response to Roy's dark, surrendering thoughts, his tired legs tried to give out from under him and it was all he could do to catch himself on the kitchen table without dropping Ed. Even so, Roy stumbled as he grabbed the corner of the table, re-opening the gash on his right hand with its wooden edge. He hissed out a low curse at the renewed pain, then steadied himself and pulled Edward down from his shoulder as carefully as he could, placing him in one of the sturdy wooden chairs.

Edward's head lolled against the back of the chair and his arm hung bonelessly at his side, but he remained more-or-less upright where Roy had propped him. After checking to make sure his dead weight wasn't going to slump to the floor the minute Roy turned his back, he went to the sink and ran cold water into the basin. He splashed his face with it, trying to clear his muddled and frantic mind. The water in the sink quickly darkened to a brown-red, both from Roy's injured hands and from the dried lines of blood that he'd just discovered trailing from his nose and down over his mouth.

_That probably isn't good_, he thought to himself giddily, reaching under the sink to grab a large metal bowl and a dishrag. Once again he had to fight against the sudden impulse to laugh, but he managed to hold it back. He straightened and filled the bowl with the cold water gushing from the tap, then carried it back over toward the table unsteadily. As he approached, he glanced back up at Ed's face and nearly dropped the bowl.

Ed was watching him. Staring at him.

His eyes were unfocused and inconstant in their gaze—seeming to slide from their intended target for a bit before they forced themselves to rise again and latch on to Roy's movement—but still, he was _watching_.

Roy set the bowl down on the table hard, his shaking hands unable to do it any more gracefully. Water sloshed over the metal rim and spread across the table in a cool puddle, widening until it reached the edge and dribbled down onto the floor.

It sounded like rain.

Edward turned his head slightly, his sluggish eyes trying to find the source of the sound. Seemingly unable to find it, Ed's eyelids fluttered and slid half-closed in defeat and he returned to staring at nothing.

Was that a good sign? Roy honestly didn't know. It was purposeful movement, right? So it had to be a good thing, didn't it? And it was clear that he could hear the water dripping off of the table... but maybe that didn't really mean anything. Being able to hear didn't mean that he understood what he was hearing... Moving around a little bit didn't mean that he was anywhere close to being okay.

Roy closed his eyes tightly, quelling the brief flash of desperate hope that had touched him at Ed's movement. He should know better than to hope. Hadn't he learned his lesson earlier? It was a waste of time and energy. Hope had been at fault for landing him in this situation to begin with. If he hadn't hoped, Edward would already be dead... safely dead and not a drooling idiot as he was now. Roy had been a fool to ever hope that he could make this right again. He could never do _anything_ right when it came to Edward and Alphonse. Maybe he loved them too much to think clearly about them. He didn't even _want_ to care for them. He didn't _used_ to care. What the fuck had changed over the years?

He shook his head, burying his feelings under the pain in his skull where he would have to think about them. Physical pain was far easier to tolerate than _that_ indescribably agony.

He dipped the dishrag into the bowl of water, then bent over the catatonic boy and started wiping the blood from his face. His eyes opened again fully at the cool sensation of the cloth mopping his cheek and rolled over to look at Roy's hand. Roy pulled the cloth away to rinse it in the water again and Ed's tired eyes followed, riveted to it. Roy tried to ignore him, but still his pulse quickened at each sign of life that Ed was dimly displaying.

Roy's right hand was still bleeding from where he'd torn it open again on the table and it twinged as he used it to wipe Ed's face with the cloth. Blood had started dripping from it fairly heavily, the scarlet droplets hitting the floor and mixing with the water that had already been splattered onto the tiles. Roy rinsed the cloth again and lowered it to efface the smears of blood on Edward's chest. Again, Ed's eyes followed as best they could and his brow furrowed very slightly.

As Roy moved to rinse the cloth again, Edward's hand shot out and caught him by the wrist. Roy dropped the cloth and it slapped against the floor wetly, but he made no move to pick it up. He was frozen, every ounce of his attention focused on Edward, too full of shocked hope—damned, contemptible _hope_—to even realize that he was holding his breath.

Ed didn't do anything for a moment, just stared at Roy's bleeding hand as if not quite sure what it was. Roy could see his mind trying to work again, fighting to understand... Ed's grip was weak and his fingers were trembling and clumsy, but Roy did not dare to pull away from him, afraid of interrupting whatever divine power was allowing Ed this vague kind of thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ed leaned forward a little and brought Roy's open palm up toward his face. He studied it again for several beats, the furrow in his brow deepening into some emotion crossed between confusion and concern. And then, to Roy's horror, he opened his mouth and started to lick up the blood seeping from the gash in his hand.

Roy wanted to snatch his hand away from him, but was prevented from doing so by a deep, sick kind of paralysis. So he just sat there dumbly, eyes wide as he watched the child lap at the wound, cleaning it just as a dog would. This was a completely natural thing for a dog to want to do. It was instinct, simple and pure... but for a _child_ to be doing it—even a child who had all too recently been mostly dog—it was a truly terrifying thing to witness. It would be a perverse and stomach-twisting thing for any random bystander to see, but for Roy it was even more terrible.

Ed's body was nearly human again, but now—Roy noted with rising alarm—it was clear to see that his mind was still in the dull-witted clutches of the dog. Perhaps in the pain and terror of the transmutation, Ed's mind had fled behind the dog's consciousness. Roy had seen it happen once before to a lesser extent, that day when Ed had attacked him by the oak tree... Perhaps he was doing it again now, burying himself so profoundly in canine thought—in a dog mind that was clearly just as damaged as Ed's human body currently was, slow and bordering on severe retardation—that he saw nothing wrong with what he was doing. Even in the beginning, right after he'd been rescued from the lab, Edward's mind had never been dragged so low as this.

But then that could mean that Ed might still be in there somewhere... suffocated and locked in the dark, but still there, cowering behind the sparse, remaining fragments of the dog's failing consciousness.

"Edward...?" Roy ventured softly, his voice breaking, "Are you there?"

Ed was swaying from side-to-side like some kind of poisoned beast or a madman on the streets lost in his own insanity. He ignored Roy completely and continued to lick the wound, daubing his lips and teeth with dark red. The stinging sensation of the child's tongue sliding against the gash was so unspeakably wrong that Roy made a gentle attempt to pull his hand away, but Ed's weak grip on it tightened and a low, warped growl rumbled from his throat.

Roy had to swallow back bile before he could make himself continue.

"Come on, kid... please answer me..."

No reaction.

Roy's heart was beating hard, hoping—just _hoping_, pleading, praying against every inkling of defeat and logic that dwelt within him—for any kind of response. His imprisoned hand twitched in Edward's grip, making dark red lines trail down past his wrist as he resisted the abrupt, savage urge to strike him, to physically wound him, to damage the degraded thing that he had become...

The degraded, mindless thing that Roy had turned him into.

"_ED_!" Roy shouted finally, brokenly.

The name echoed in the room, ricocheting off of the cold tiled floor, off of the cabinets, and off of the white walls of the dimly-lit kitchen. It echoed against the small window over the sink, against that tiny view of the night sky as the clouds finally decided to give in and let go of the rain they had been suppressing for days. Droplets of rainwater pattered against the glass, the only sound that remained after the resonation of Roy's frantic, anguished voice fractured and faded into silence.

The boy still gave no reaction for several beats, but then paused in his lapping as if it had taken him a moment to process Roy's exclamation. His dazed, blood-darkened eyes wandered back to Roy's face and regarded him blandly, then returned to the crimson-smeared hand he was holding.

His gaze sharpened and his eyes flew open wide. He jerked back from Roy and threw his hand down with a soft, horrified cry. He clapped his hand over his mouth, turned his head and vomited hard. Stomach acid tinged red with blood—most of it Ed's, some of it Roy's—splashed to the floor and mingled with the spilled water. Ed's frail, bony back heaved and he made tiny, frantic noises between retches.

In spite of the tragic, terrible sight playing out in front of him, Roy's heart leapt with joy. There had been horror on Ed's face. _Horror_. Dogs' minds were not complex enough to experience true horror. Fear? Yes... but horror is deeper than just simple fear. Horror is beyond fear, for it connotes a deep, revolted understanding. A dog couldn't comprehend horror. It was a human emotion.

A _strictly_ human emotion.

Ed wiped his mouth on the back of his trembling hand and curled in on himself, shuddering.

"Ed...?" Roy asked when he could make himself speak, still not entirely believing the sight of Ed resurfacing before him, "Are... are you okay?"

The boy turned his head slightly to look at him. His eyes were huge, the lids still encrusted with dried blood and as Roy watched, they filled with tears.

"No..." he whispered, his thin chest lurching as he gasped in air. He shook his head, the blood-tinged tears streaking down his face. "No... n-not okay..."

He clutched the side of his head with his one shaking hand and doubled over in the chair, his eyes still wide and haunting as he mumbled to himself, the words too low for Roy to understand over the roar of his own heart pounding in his ears. Edward understood now... _fully_ understood what had been done to him, reflecting on the past few months with a suddenly human mind. The terrible knowledge was written all over his face, flashes of newly remembered torture tightening his jaw and over-spilling from his frightened—_horrified_—eyes.

Roy reached out a timid hand and placed it on Edward's trembling back, too overwhelmed—both with disbelieving elation and deepest sorrow—to make any sort of attempt at vocalizing comfort. Edward had spoken. His eyes were still bleary and unsteady, but he was alert and he was talking in _his own voice_. It was not the voice of a chimera that he was hearing, but the voice of a child. _Edward's_ beautiful, unforgettable voice.

"H-help me..." Edward sobbed, curling in on himself even further, "Help me, please..."

"...I'm trying, kid," Roy managed to rasp, his voice thick and wavering. He lowered himself down onto his knees in front of the suffering boy, unheeding of the cold mixture of blood, water, and vomit that soaked into his trousers. He took Ed's face in his hands and forced him to meet his eyes. "I'm going to fix you, Ed. I swear it. I won't give up as long as you won't, okay? I promise... I _promise_..."

Edward stared at him, then closed his eyes tightly and practically threw himself on the bigger man, wrapping his arm around Roy's neck and pressing his face to his cheek as he finally broke down and wept _hard_. Anguished and a little startled, Roy hesitated before he could bring himself to reciprocate the embrace, but then he wound his arms around his as tightly as he could, gritting his teeth against his own emotions. He pulled the boy down onto the floor with him and held him, quietly promising him over and over again that he was going to be okay. He'd be fine. He was strong and brave and beautiful and Roy would never let anything like this happen to him ever again. He was safe, now. He was home.

Roy wasn't sure how he did it in retrospect, but somehow he managed to get his feet under him and carry the child in his arms back into the bedroom. It took some gentle coaxing to convince Ed to let go of him, but then he settled him on the bed and sat next to him, rubbing his back until he was able to get a hold of himself and stop crying. Ed quieted after a few minutes, clutching the dark sheets in his hand and breathing hard, moaning softly.

"...Are you in much pain?" Roy asked gently, finger-combing Ed's tangled hair away from his face. Ed nodded tightly.

"It's bad," he half-sobbed, "it's really, really bad right now..."

That wasn't surprising, given how much his body had been forced to change in this one transmutation. The pain after that first fated transmutation days ago was nothing compared to the pain that Ed must be feeling now. Roy's own body was still too beleaguered by adrenaline and shock to feel the full extent of the pain he would most certainly feel tomorrow—though his head was killing him and his injured hands stung—but he knew that Ed's pain must be far worse now, and it was only going to get more intense the more he came back to himself.

Roy considered his options briefly, then turned his head and eyed the thin box of hypodermic needles that was still sitting on the other side of the bed. He reached for it and pulled one out.

"I'm going to give you a shot for the pain, okay? I know you don't like needles, but it'll help you sleep," he mumbled, stomach turning at the all too recent memory of trying to inject Ed the first time. Edward opened one eye tiredly as Roy sucked the clear fluid into the syringe—less than a fourth of the amount that he'd attempted to use on him earlier.

"What is it?" Edward panted, his voice hitched and gravelly.

"Morphine."

Edward nodded his acquiescence and let his eye fall shut. But then his eyes opened again suddenly and he stared at the needle. Roy was sure that Ed remembered when he'd tried to inject him earlier with this same drug. Perhaps he noticed that this dosage was drastically smaller than the last, a fact that made his eyes go wide in silent realization and look up at Roy questioningly. It is a common fact that high doses of morphine induce a swift and painless death and Roy had no doubt in his mind that Ed knew this.

"I'd lost hope," Roy responded to Ed's unasked question as he slid the needle into his shoulder and dosed him. Ed didn't say anything to that. He didn't look angry or frightened at the thought of his superior trying to kill him. He looked as if he understood, as if he didn't blame Roy in the slightest. He looked as if he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to feel and so closed his eyes again as if too tired to deal with it at the moment. He'd think about it later.

There were a lot of things that he was going to have to think about and come to terms with later, but for now he just needed to let his poor, ravaged body rest as it struggled to cope with what had been done to it.

"I'll let you sleep now," Roy said quietly, getting to his unsteady feet and making to exit the room.

"Ngh, wait..." Ed mumbled, forcing his eyes half-open even as the blissful drug started to pull him down into painless slumber.

"What?"

"Something... I wanna tell you..."

"...What?"

And then, to Roy's surprise, a fatigued smile found itself pulling at the corners of Edward's mouth and, very quietly, he spoke three little words that Roy would never forget as long as he lived.

Something within Roy Mustang—something that had been pulled taut over the past several days—was about to reach its breaking point.

"...Go to sleep, Ed," he forced himself to say after a long, breathless pause, turning to quickly leave the room with his hand over his mouth. Ed had already succumbed to the morphine by the time he responded and didn't hear his departure.

Roy stumbled back into the kitchen, feeling lost and engulfed by everything around him. He dropped exhaustedly into one of the chairs and stared at the shining wetness of water on the table. And then, in the cold silence of his kitchen, the tightly pulled thread of his hard-won composure finally snapped.

He took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands, biting into his injured palm to keep himself quiet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Maes ran after Alphonse through the thickening rain, soaked to the skin by the torrential downfall, legs pumping and heart in his throat. He had stopped trying to get Al to listen to reason three blocks ago and had resigned himself to simply pursuing him as he ran toward his brother's dead body. Roy had certainly killed him already. It had been over two hours since Maes had gone to wait for Al in front of the library, more than enough time to end a child's life.

Maes had still failed his friend, though. He knew Roy very deeply and understood that his request for time was not so that he could steel himself against what he had to do... he wanted to use the time to collect himself afterwards. But Maes had failed to keep Alphonse away and he had no doubt that they were about to burst in on a wrecked man in deep mourning for what he had just done.

Roy's house came in to view and Al ran toward it with a renewed burst of speed, Maes hot on his metal heels. Al reached the door but didn't even try the knob. He knew it would be locked and so just opted to break it down with one solid blow from his massive fist. The door caved in with a deafening crash. Al stormed into the house and Maes dodged around him to get in front of him and ran into the front room.

"I'm so sorry, Roy!" Maes shouted, eyes darting around for his friend, "He figured it out, I couldn't keep him back. I—"

But then his eyes landed on Roy and he stopped. The man was sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands and shoulders quaking violently. He was keeping himself almost completely silent, but his trembling form was enough to bring tears to Maes' eyes.

It really was finished, then.

Al had come to a halt next to Maes as if he, too, were struck by Roy's emotion. Perhaps seeing him like this had brought him to the same conclusion that Maes had reached.

"...Where... where is he...?" Alphonse moaned quietly as if he didn't really want to know.

Roy did not lift his head to reply, but raised one badly shaking hand to point toward the bedroom. Al turned and fled in that direction, calling for his brother in a high, frantic voice.

"Al, maybe you shouldn't see..." Maes pleaded desperately, about to follow.

"H-he's fine..." Roy said suddenly, his voice warped—not by tears as Maes would have assumed, but by an odd, frightening kind of _laughter_. "He's gonna b-be okay..."

"You mean...?"

"I couldn't do it," he giggled into his hands, clearly overtaken by some giddy form of hysteria. "I tried. I... but I..." he cut off, laughing too hard to complete his sentence. Maes stepped over to him cautiously, not knowing what to do and more than a little alarmed. Roy finally lowered his hands and looked up at him, his eyes bright with exhaustion and tears. His face and hands were covered in blood but he didn't seem to care, too overpowered by his tragic mirth to give it any heed. After a moment, he was able to hold back his laughter enough to tell Maes what had happened and he listened closely with both relief and distress.

"But he's alive? He's okay?" Maes asked in disbelief.

"No. He's _not_ okay... but he will be," Roy said. He took a deep breath as if to try and steady himself but then slipped into another disturbing about of laughter, trembling like a leaf.

"Roy, you need to calm down..." Maes tried to sooth, putting a hand on each of his shoulders, "You're hysterical..."

"I _know_ I'm hysterical! And the s-scary thing is that I've been t-t-trying to calm down for the past fifteen minutes!" he howled, wiping his eyes and laughing even harder, "Besides, you're always telling m-me that I need to laugh more!"

Maes bit his lip. He pulled another chair over and seated himself close to his friend, running a hand up and down his back as he fought to get himself under control. He looked ready to either pass out or vomit.

"Come on, just breathe for a minute..." Maes said, "Its okay, just calm down..."

Roy covered his face with his hands again and took several slow, unsteady breaths.

"You w-wanna know the last thing he s-said... said to me before he fell asleep just now?" Roy asked, his voice sounding closer to tears now that some of the laughter was beginning to subside.

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'You _do_ snore.'"

"Well..." Maes said warily, "You do."

Roy choked and then cracked up again, laughing like a madman. Maes almost joined him, but resisted the urge to give into the contagiousness of his friend's hysteria and instead put his arms around him, holding him in what he hoped was a calming embrace.

And soon, as Maes had hoped, the manic laugher died down into a soft weeping and then into silence.

After a moment, Roy pulled away and wiped his face on his sleeve, his expression drawn with fatigue and mild embarrassment. He was in control again and he gave a curt nod of thanks to Maes. Maes smiled at him worriedly and got to his feet.

"I'll be right back; let me go make sure that Al is okay..."

Roy nodded distractedly and wiped his eyes again.

Maes went into the bedroom cautiously. Al was sitting on the bed, looking down at his brother in silence. He raised his head a little when Maes stepped in.

"He... he looks _good_," Al rasped, gesturing toward Ed's sleeping form as if he didn't quite believe it. And Ed _did_ look good. At first glance, Maes might have mistaken him for completely human, but then he noticed the dark claws at the ends of Ed's slightly misshapen fingers and how long his nose still looked. Overall, it was definitely an improvement. He looked smaller somehow, though... even more frail than he had been. His skin was too white, his arm and leg too thin, his once-muscular belly concave with malnourishment. But, oh, he was still _so beautiful_.

"Roy says that he's going to be fine..." Maes informed him, "He's not completely fixed yet, but he's very close."

Al nodded silently, then looked up again, "Is... is Mustang okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed at length, "Just your run-of-the-mill nervous breakdown, I think. He'll be fine."

Al didn't look very soothed by that answer and Maes smirked at him. "I'll leave you two alone, then," he murmured, and backed out of the room again.

He returned to the kitchen again to see Roy with his head resting on the table. His back rose and fell with slow, dreamy respiration. The exhausted man had calmed himself admirably, it seemed.

In fact, he was asleep... and snoring very softly.


	15. Epilogue

Edward jerked his head up as a bird flew overhead. He wanted to chase it. He wanted to catch it. Yes. He could do it. It was just a little bird and he could get it. He could catch it and bite it. _Bite it!_ He could—

A hand rested on Ed's shoulder suddenly, reminding him of where he was. Reminding him of _what_ he was. Embarrassed, Edward sat back in his wheelchair and sighed. He was doing better—he really, really was—but it was still taking him a long time to be in his right mind again.

Ed had been human—_completely_ human—for over a week now. There was nothing of the dog remaining in him, but sometimes he couldn't help but feel the way a dog would feel when he saw small animals to chase or other dogs to fight with. Mustang told him that his remaining dog behavior was purely psychological, most likely from sharing a dog's mind for so long, and would probably fade in time.

It was a rainy Wednesday afternoon at Central's large, bustling train station. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was pushing Ed across the platform in a wheelchair and Alphonse was walking next to him, carrying Ed's luggage. Colonel Mustang was walking on Ed's other side, one of his bandaged hands still gripping Ed's shoulder nonchalantly.

"I'm okay," Ed told him and the hand disappeared, dropping immediately to the Colonel's side.

Edward and Alphonse were heading to Resembool where Ed was going to undergo automail surgery again in a few days' time. He was certainly not looking forward to that. He felt much better now than he had in a very long time and wasn't too fond of the idea of being in nearly unbearable pain again... Still, it needed to be done and the sooner the better.

"You know," Mustang began airily, "I think I'm going to miss having a dog."

Ed snorted, pretending to be irritated. "The only dog I see around here is _you_, Mustang."

The colonel gave a quiet laugh and didn't say anything else. Mustang had been kind and supportive through all of this, not something that Edward ever would have expected from him. The first few days after that last big transmutation that had nearly killed them both, things had been a little awkward between them. Ed's mind had been able to analyze everything that had happened to him with a human understanding, and in that same vein was able to fully appreciate all that Mustang had done for him over the past few weeks. He was both grateful and confused.

Mustang didn't seem to know how to act around him at first. Mustang and Edward-the-human had never really been close, but as a dog he'd never wanted to leave Mustang's side... They eventually worked out their social anxieties with one another, though.

Not wanting to make Ed-the-human uncomfortable, Mustang had been sleeping on the couch nearly every night and letting Edward have the bed to himself. There were a few times, though, when Edward woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream with Mustang by his side.

These dreams were pretty frequent and Mustang often shook him awake saying that he'd been screaming in his sleep. On those nights Ed pressed himself against Mustang's chest and cried for hours. Sometimes, Mustang would cry, too... although he'd always try to act like he wasn't... and the he would hold him tight, not saying anything, just trying to make him feel safe. And Ed _did_ feel safe in Mustang's arms. He felt loved and protected... he felt like nothing could ever hurt him again when he was in Mustang's arms...

God, he didn't want to leave...

Hughes brought the wheelchair to a halt on the platform and Al handed a man their tickets and climbed onto the train to put away the luggage. Mustang leaned over and took Ed's arm, helping him stand on his one unsteady leg. Even the small effort of standing made Ed pant a little with exertion. It was so frustrating how_ weak_ he was now. He was getting better daily and he'd even gained a couple pounds over the past two weeks, but he was still exhausted all the time and he looked even worse than he felt. Winry was going to have a _fit_ when she saw him...

"Come on, I'll help you up," Mustang said gruffly, guiding Ed toward the steps that led up into the train. He, too, was weak and tired. He was trying to hide it, but he was probably just as fatigued as Ed was. He was pale and his eyes were red and shadowed with grey half-circles underneath. He'd probably be happy to have Ed out of his hair now so that he could get a decent night's sleep for once and not have to worry about holding a crying kid in the middle of the night...

Edward's eyes stung as tears started to form, but he was still holding on to Mustang with his only hand and couldn't wipe them away without drawing attention to them. He tried to blink them back quickly, but Mustang noticed them before they could be erased. The man froze, then sighed.

"Maes, could you give us a second?" he said over his shoulder softly. Hughes gave some sort of gentle reply and Ed heard his footsteps as they faded into the distance. He kept his eyes down, ashamed of his weakness even as he leaned forward against Mustang's chest, instinctively seeking comfort. The man bent down and enveloped him, more than willing these days to give him what he asked for.

Mustang maintained that this, too, would pass as Ed got better. As a dog, he had been very clingy to Mustang and he could remember following him all around the house, just wanting to be close to him... and now, as much as he fought to suppress those feelings, Ed was still terrified at the thought of leaving him.

"I don't want to go..." Ed mumbled, the words sounding unspeakably childish, even to his own ears.

"I know, but you have to," he replied with quiet kindness, "...Besides, it'll be good for you to get out a little, you lazy little punk."

Ed gave a tearful little laugh and pulled away. He was right; it would be good for him. If he was going to get over these impulses, he had to get away from Mustang for a while... no matter how much he desperately just wanted to go back home with him. Mustang smiled down at him warmly, then made him turn around and helped him up onto the train.

Alphonse was already there waiting and he led him to their seats and Ed quickly wiped his face again while his back was turned. He sat down in the familiar seats of the train and suddenly felt a little more at ease. This was going to be okay. Everything would be fine. It was going to take a long time for everything to be normal again, but things _would_ be normal again, eventually. He'd have his automail again soon and after he'd healed for several weeks, he could come back to Central and everything would be okay. No sweat.

Edward started as someone rapped on the widow next to him. It was Mustang. Al stood and opened the window.

"I almost forgot something," Mustang said loudly over the train's departure-signaling whistle. "Give me your hand."

"Why?" Ed asked skeptically.

"Just do it."

Ed sighed with false annoyance and stuck his hand out the window. Mustang took it and pulled it close. And then, to Ed's shock, he leaned in and _bit _him hard on the arm.

"OW!" Ed exclaimed, jerking his arm back, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Mustang grinned wolfishly. "Payback. I owed you for this," he said, raising his own arm and rolling up his sleeve to reveal the scars that Ed had given him back in the lab. Ed rolled his eyes and looked down at his new bite-wound. Mustang hadn't broken skin, but he had still left painful indentions where his teeth had pressed into his flesh.

"...Bet you gave me rabies..." Ed muttered, wiping a spot of Mustang's saliva from his arm with a grimace.

"If I have rabies, it's only because you gave it to me first," he shot back, eyes twinkling.

Ed scowled at him and Mustang gave him an insufferable smile in response. After a beat, though, he sobered himself.

"Call me when you get there," he said seriously.

"We will," Al said when Ed's throat had become to tight for him to answer. Mustang smiled again, sadly this time, and stepped back as the train started moving.

Ed sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, unable to watch as his harsh, beloved protector grew smaller and smaller and finally disappeared over the horizon.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roy felt Maes come up from behind him and halt at his side, but neither of them said anything as they watched the train wind its way eastward. Even after it was gone from sight, they continued to stand there, motionless and silent until Maes suddenly sighed and pulled something out of his pocket, holding it out for Roy to take. Roy glanced at it.

"I'm not crying," he rasped when he saw that it was a handkerchief.

"Of course you aren't," he replied amiably, still holding it out.

After a moment, Roy finally gave in and took it, briefly pressing it to his over-moist eyes before they could spill over. "Thanks," he mumbled, handing it back.

"Don't mention it."

The pair turned and started walking back toward Maes' car, turning up the collars of their jackets against the frigid drizzle.

"Do you just want to go home?" Maes asked, watching Roy sidelong as they walked.

_To what?_ Roy almost asked, but instead he just shrugged, swallowing hard. No, he did not want to go home. It was going to seem so empty...

"You can always come over to my place for a few drinks. Gracia has been missing you. She worries. You know how she is..."

Roy smirked in spite of himself. Gracia was a darling woman with more common sense than Roy and Maes put together. She was a very soothing person to be around and Roy couldn't help but think that chatting with her and Maes over a glass of fine scotch _did_ sound appealing. He really just didn't want to be alone right now, and they were both good company... Even little Elysia was good for a few laughs...

Roy suddenly realized with a pang that he really _did_ want to see Elysia. It had been months since he'd seen her. To be honest, Roy didn't really enjoy the company of children and Elysia seemed to pick up on that and be very shy around him... but the thought of just being in the same room as Maes' daughter seemed comforting... Because maybe, if he saw Maes playing with her and keeping her safe, then perhaps it would distract him from his desperate yearning to do the same thing for Edward. Maybe Roy could live vicariously through Maes, just for a moment, and know the heart-swelling joy of being a father.

God, how pathetic was _that_?

"I suppose I do still need to thank her for that soup. That's only polite..." Roy mumbled, feigning reluctance.

Maes chuckled, unfooled by Roy's half-hearted ruse.

Ed was safe. He really was... Roy just had to keep telling himself that. Alphonse would take care of him until they made their way back to Central and then life could go on as it always did. The world could keep spinning.

"You know, maybe this isn't the best time to bring it up..." Maes began, getting into the car, "But I was thinking of getting Elysia a puppy..."

Roy rolled his eyes and got in next to him, knowing that he was in for an earful of excited babbling about Elysia and her approaching birthday. The same day as Ed's birthday. He sat back and listened as Maes gushed about his child, his love for her radiating off of him like a fever. This typically annoyed Roy to no end, especially when Maes called him at night to regale him with whatever cute thing that Elysia had done that day...

Now, though... for whatever reason... Roy didn't mind hearing it this time and just sat back and listened.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

((A/N: That's it! A big thanks to everyone who critiqued me and thanks even more to those of you who did fanart for this fic. I love you all and I really appreciate that you took the time to read this.

--Mel ))


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